Annie's Story
by TheWallsWeBreakThrough
Summary: "A bitter taste settles in my mouth. Of course Finnick has no faith in me, of course there's no chance I'll win this..." The story of Annie Cresta, Finnick Odair and the 70th Hunger Games. M rated for violence and gore. COMPLETE WITH BONUS CHAPTER
1. Reaped

**Story Title: Annie's Story**

**Genre: Romance/Adventure**

**Summary: "A bitter taste settles in my mouth. Of course Finnick has no faith in me, of course there's no chance I'll win this..." The story of Annie Cresta, Finnick Odair and the 70th Hunger Games. **

**Pairings: Annie/Finnick, slight hinted Annie/district partner**

**Rating: M for possible disturbing events, blood and gore. No lemons in this story, I'm afraid.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games or any of Suzanne Collins's pre-imagined characters or events.**

_A/N: Hey everyone, this is an Annie Cresta's Story (as you've probably guessed) and it is set in the 70th Hunger Games. I'll be tracking Annie from her reaping to her victory and maybe a smidge beyond. Of course, the lovely Finnick will feature and there will be some romance for all you Finnick/Annie shippers! __Anyway, this story will be canon compliant in as much as we know about Annie Cresta, although I've decided she shall not become completely bonkers during the Games. She might have 'moments' but she won't have her real issues until after the Games methinks, although I haven't really decided yet. Also, since we don't know much about Annie and her Games, most of the characters in this story are OCs and therefore belonging to me. I had great fun creating all these characters, but wow, it's difficult to avoid the stereotypes! _

_This story is now complete, with a epilogue and bonus chapter. There's also a WIP companion story to this fic from Finnick's pov, and sketches of characters for this story on deviantart. See my profile for details._

_Anyway, enough chatter, and on with the story. Please review, reviews make my day! x_

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**CHAPTER ONE - REAPED**

* * *

I want to dive.

I want to leap out of the window into the sea below and swim down, down, down, until my throat hurts and my chest is burning. I want to see nothing but blue, to taste the salty water on my lips, to feel it sting in my eyes.

But I can't.

I'm trapped in this tiny room with its tiny barred window and peacekeepers at the door. I'll probably be dead within a week.

I never expected to be reaped. In district 4, we usually get volunteers before they even pick a tribute. I've had my name in that stupid glass bowl for 6 years now and never before has Violet Lovedaie even stuck her hand in it. The year before last there was no male volunteer but of course, that didn't affect me. I remember the kid's face – the one who was picked – when he heard his name. He'd looked like he was about to vomit. Everyone had sort of moved away, as if being too close to him would bring them bad luck.

I expect my face, and the actions of those around me, were pretty much the same.

"Annie Cresta." Violet Lovedaie had chirruped, lifting the piece of paper high above her head. I had heard a cry of shock and the beginnings of sobs from where the adults stood – _Ava_ – but then I guess someone had shushed her. Just as well, since public displays of grief are not tolerated by the Capitol.

"Annie Cresta?" Violet had repeated when I didn't respond. Someone had given me a gentle nudge and then I was on my way, up the central aisle, all eyes, all cameras, on me. The peacekeepers, flanking me at all sides, kept me moving at a brisk pace, ferrying me up onto the stage. As I had mounted the steps, Violet had come to greet me, a huge smile plastered to her face and I'd noted with a vague sense of satisfaction that she had lipstick smeared across her teeth. Over her shoulder, I'd seen the mentors for this year; Mags – who is so old she was alive before the start of the Games – and the almighty Finnick Odair.

Our eyes had met for the briefest of moments, his narrowed with sympathy, before Violet had grasped my arm so tightly it hurt and spun me round to face the crowd. I remember a bitter taste settling in my mouth.

Of course Finnick has no faith in me, of course there's no chance I'll win this.

"Annie Cresta!" Violet had announced triumphantly, interrupting my thoughts and pushing me forward a step.

I remember staring numbly into the faces of the teenagers whose lives I was effectively saving – at least until next year anyway. There had been pity in their eyes, of course, but mostly relief. I couldn't blame them though. No one wants to die.

Violet Lovedaie had smiled at the crowd, the lilac curls fluttering lightly in the breeze at odds with her iron like grip.

"And now for the boys." She'd let go of my arm then and sauntered across the stage to the other glass bowl. I'd waited for someone to volunteer – I'd heard a group of older boys at school discussing the possibility just last week – but no one did. Her hand and those hideous purple nails had swirled teasingly above the paper slips for a few minutes before she selected one.

"Ethan Marborough." Her smile as bright as the sun on water, she'd scanned the crowd for his face. I had watched him as he'd made his way up to the stage, his eyes hard, his mouth set in a grim line. He could win, I remember thinking. I'd seen him at sea on the our biannual trips to deeper water to hunt whales. I was only there because they'd needed a strong swimmer to help with the nets from below but he was there because he can hit a whale right between the eyes with a harpoon from twenty or thirty metres away...

I slump on the small sofa they've provided for me in my tiny prison and put my head in my hands.

I'm so going to die.

* * *

...

* * *

_So there it was, first chapter. Short but they'll get longer, I promise._

_Drop us a line, let me know if you got the urge to read on. If not, any suggestions?_


	2. See You Later

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games and it's characters. Those belong to Suzanne Collins. I do, however, own the OCs in this story._

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**CHAPTER TWO - SEE YOU LATER**

* * *

After a little while, I hear the door being unlocked. I've been told I'll have two minutes with each visitor although I only expect one. The peacekeeper at the door pushes her gently inside and she blinks at me, her eyes - green like mine - cloudy with tears.

"Ava." I say to my Grandmother. In reply, she simply opens her arms. I wrap my own around her waist, burying my nose into her shoulder. She smells of spring and the tears well up in my own eyes as I realise this will be the last time I'll ever hug her.

When I tell her such, she shakes her head.

"Don't think like that, Annie." She says, pulling away and holding me at arms length. "You can win this."

"I can't." I say miserably, remembering the look on Finnick's face. I could almost hear him thinking _'no winner this year then...'._ At least until Ethan's name was called anyway.

"Yes you can." Ava insists, the frown on her face deepening the wrinkles around her eyes. "You're tough, Annie, you can survive."

"I can't fight."

"Learn." She says. "You'll be trained. Learn some techniques. And don't underestimate the skill of survival. _You_ can make fish hooks from nothing, _you_ can tie unbreakable knots, _you _can swim."

"What good is swimming," I argue. "When you're being chased by a six foot eight giant with a sword?"

"Now now," Ava says softly. "You don't know any of the tributes will be six foot eight..."

"Ethan could kill me from thirty metres away." I persist.

"But he won't. Well," She amends. "Not unless it's down to you two."

I guess that's probably true. Tributes don't tend to kill those of their own district. It's bad for sponsors and kind of makes things awkward back home if you win and you've murdered the daughter of your neighbour. Not that me and Ethan are neighbours, but we were in the same class last year, being the same age and all.

"Ethan's a good boy." My Grandmother continues quietly. "He will protect you, at least at first. And you're district 4, Annie, you'll have the help of the other Careers and everything at the Cornucopia."

I'd almost forgotten about that. The Careers will definitely want Ethan in their pack and I suppose Finnick and Mags will make sure we're a package deal. As long as I prove my worth, I'll have the protection of the Careers. Although that protection probably won't last long. At some point we'll have to turn on each other, the Careers always do. I'll have to leave before that happens and keep out of their way...

I relay my new found tactics to Ava who smiles.

"See? You're already thinking like a victor."

I snort but don't argue. If Ava wants to think I have a chance at winning then I don't want to shoot her down. It'll help her when I'm in the Games, when I'm injured and bleeding...

I swallow hard.

"We don't have long." Ava says, pulling me back for another hug. "But sweetheart, know that I love you and I believe you can do this. You're smart, Annie, like your father. And your mother, come to think of it."

"I'm glad they're not here to see this." I mutter into her hair, wrapping my arms around her neck and crushing her to me.

"To see what? You win?"

I smile through my tears.

"Yeah, something like that."

The door opens and the peacemaker appears.

"Time's up, Mrs Cresta."

Ava tightens her hug for the briefest of seconds and then lets go. She plants a kiss on my forehead before tucking my hair behind my ears with a motherly smile.

"Bye Ava." I say and she shakes her head.

"Not goodbye," She says. "See you later."

* * *

...

* * *

_So, we have now met Ava, Annie's Grandmother (on her father's side). As for why Annie calls her Grandmother by her first name, I have no idea, it just felt right. In my story, Ava is all Annie has and they live together in a small but relatively comfortable house in District 4. In case I haven't made it clear, Annie's parents are dead._


	3. Making Plans

_We're getting closer to the Capitol! Exciting stuff. _

_Anyway, Suzanne Collins owns Annie, Finnick, Mags and Hunger Games world. I own Ethan (although Suzanne owns his fate) and anyone else who's escaped from my strange imagination._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE - MAKING PLANS**

* * *

It's not long after Ava left that a peacekeeper comes to collect me. As I leave the room, so does Ethan and for the first time, I catch his eye. He gives me a brief nod, but then his peacekeeper is pushing him forward ahead of me. We walk, single file, through the building, outside to the station. It's raining and the peacekeeper offers me an umbrella. I refuse, wanting to feel the rain on my skin. Ethan does the same.

As I expected, no one else had come to see me. But then, why would they? I don't think Ethan had many visitors either.

As Ava left my cell, I'd seen Ethan's father leave his. He'd looked distraught. I seem to remember Ethan works with him on his fishing boat at the weekends and from what I saw on the whaling trips, they're pretty close. Ethan has a younger sister as well, I think; a pretty little thing with curly blonde hair if I remember rightly. I feel a pang of sympathy for his family. If I die, Ava will be devastated, but if Ethan dies, that little girl will have lost her big brother.

The peacekeeper ahead nudges Ethan up the steps into the waiting train and I see him close his eyes, just for a second and take a deep breath.

I realise this is probably the last time we'll smell the salty air of district 4. When I do the same, grief hits me like a tidal wave and my knees buckle, but the peacekeeper steadies me – hopefully thinking I slipped on the wet metal stairs – and then I'm inside the train.

They lead us along a corridor – it feels like I'm bouncing along on this thick plush carpet – and into a large, open plan room, with huge leather sofas, tables laden with every kind of food imaginable and a large television screen mounted on a lavishly embellished wall. Finnick shoots us a lazy smile from the sofa, tossing an apple – too red and too perfect to be real surely? – from hand to hand. Mags surveys us for a few minutes, her eyebrows knitted together as she watches us and her dark green eyes speculative.

I shift uncomfortably under their scrutiny whilst Ethan folds his arms and regards them steadily back. Finnick glances at me.

"Are you alright?" He asks.

"What do you think?" I shoot back. His eyebrows raise.

"We're not your enemies, Cresta."

I shrug, not entirely trusting him, knowing they're going to put most of their energy and resources into Ethan rather than me.

"I guess not."

Mags watches this exchange silently, before suddenly patting the seat next to her and gesturing for me to sit by her. I edge forwards and sit awkwardly on the sofa that's far too soft to be comfortable. Ethan sits on her other side. Neither of us particularly want to share a sofa with Finnick.

"So what's the pla..." Ethan begins, but Finnick cuts him off.

"We're going to watch the recap of the reapings." He tells us. "Scope out the competition. And then," He glances meaningfully at Ethan. "_Then_ we'll discuss tactics."

And so that's what we do. Finnick remains sprawled across his sofa for the duration of the reapings, chomping on his apple which apparently _is_ real, whilst Mags stays upright and dignified. I eventually lean back against the corner of the sofa, but tuck my knees up to my chin, my arms wrapped protectively around my legs. Ethan barely moves, if anything, he actually leans forwards, watching intently as the names of tributes all over Panem are read out.

District 1 is disappointing from the view of us potential Careers. The girl is tiny and blonde with bright blue eyes and an angelic aura and the boy is equally as small with the added bonus of being skinny as well. His name is Preese, though I don't catch the girl's. District 2 is... scary. The girl is at the older end of the spectrum like us. She's tall and slim with dark hair and dark eyes. Her name is Seela; she volunteered and, as she went up on stage, she was smirking in an incredibly disturbing way. She was soon joined by a huge boy – the stereotypical district 2 male volunteer – who is also older. His name is Ash and despite his massive great muscles, he looks quite nice, what with his curly brown hair and baby face.

"Appearances are deceptive." Finnick tells me when I voice this thought. "He volunteered remember? He'd probably slit your throat in a heart beat."

Thoroughly unnerved and rubbing my fingers anxiously across my neck every once in a while, I don't speak again.

A few minutes later, after a 12 year old girl called Mia has been chosen in District 3 – I can't help the wince at her frightened expression – I am forced to watch myself being reaped. It's not too bad, I guess. At least I don't cry or anything. I just look a little... shell shocked. Ethan, on the other hand, looks even more terrifying than the District 2 boy. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Finnick nod approvingly and a tiny bit of the tension leaves Ethan's jaw. Mags remains intently focused on the screen.

I sigh quietly, tightening my arms around my legs.

The rest of the tributes are pretty average, like me, with the exception of the boy from District 7, who is just as big as Ash and looks like he'd have no trouble wielding an axe or two, and the boy from District 11, who just looks downright mean. He's small and lean but has horrible sneaky eyes and I make a mental note to avoid him.

After the anthem plays, Finnick switches the television off and turns to us.

"So," He says. "What do you think?" I'm about to say _'I'm dead'_ when Ethan answers for me.

"District 2 are a problem," He says thoughtfully. "That girl looks like she's got a few hidden talents."

"I expect so." Finnick agrees. "The ones that volunteer always do."

"District 1 don't seem to be too much of a threat." Ethan continues. "The boy looked like he was about to throw up." Finnick nods.

"The District 2s will be pretty disappointed with 1, so getting you in with the Careers should be easy."

"Is that our plan then?" I lift my head. "Joining the Careers?"

Finnick looks bemused.

"It's usually the best option. Ethan here is a formidable opponent to them, they'll track him down first if he doesn't join."

"What about me? Will I join?"

"Yes." Finnick says. "It's your best hope." I lean back again, digesting this. My best hope? Not my best _option_, but my best _hope_. Right, okay then, thanks Finnick. I scowl at him but he's already moved on. "District 7 – the male specifically – looked dangerous, he's definitely a threat."

Ethan nods.

"District 11." I say suddenly. Finnick turns those sea green eyes on me.

"11?"

"Yeah. The boy. He looked really mean."

"Mean?"

I frown, trying to explain it.

"I didn't like his eyes."

Finnick doesn't look convinced and I'm about to subside without another word, when Mags mumbles something.

"Say that again, Mags." Finnick tells her.

"She's right." Mags says a bit louder, nodding her grey head. "District 11. Mean, sneaky boy. Stay away from him."

I think that's the first time I've heard her speak. She has a quiet voice, raspy with age, but there's a kind of authority there. Finnick may seem to be the one who gives the most to his tributes, but I'll bet Mags has some good stuff too.

I'm glad she picked up on the same vibes as me and shoot a triumphant smirk in Finnick's direction. He rolls his eyes but nods.

"Fine, we'll keep an eye on 11." He tosses the core of what I think is his third apple over his shoulder. It lands in the shiny metal bin without him even looking.

Lucky shot, I think enviously.

But then, that's Finnick. Lucky bugger. God blessed him with those looks of his and that's no small part of the reason why he won his games five years ago. Even before he was reaped, everything was handed to him on a platter and he was the centre of attention at any venue he deigned to show his pretty face at, but once he got into that arena, he had sponsors coming out of his ears. And then, of course, he'd got that trident – probably the most expensive gift ever in the history of the Hunger Games – and there was no stopping him. I seem to remember the Games were over pretty quickly that year.

He's skilled, obviously, I can admit that, but if he wasn't so damned gorgeous, he'd never have got that trident and who knows how the 65th Hunger Games might have played out?

"Right," Finnick continues, rubbing his hands on his trousers and looking at Ethan. "You've obviously got muscle, but what can you do?"

Ethan contemplates for a minute.

"I guess I have good aim." He says. "I harpoon during the whaling trip. Hit it between the eyes every time." He's not boasting because it's true and he goes on to list his talents in a modest, honest way. "I'm pretty strong and fast and I'm experienced in knot tying and net making."

I see both Finnick and Mags nodding, impressed, and then they turn to me. I shrug.

"I don't really have many skills." I say. "I tie a good knot, but that's 'bout it really."

I'm average weight, average height, average speed, average strength. My skills in combat are probably less than average and I think I've got as much chance of survival as any average tribute.

When I tell them this, Finnick shoots me a smirk.

"Good job you've got those _above_ average looks of yours to pull in a few sponsors then, eh?"

It's a typical Finnick comment; flattering, flirtatious and just a little bit suggestive. I am horrified to find my cheeks reddening and try to hide it with a fierce glower.

"Good job then." I repeat severely.

"The Capitol likes pretty girls like you." Mags tells me before looking to Finnick. "That could be our angle."

He nods thoughtfully.

"Pretty but tough, with some secret skills and gritty resolve. I like it." He grins at me. "Just keep up those scowls of yours and we might get away with it." Of course that just makes me glare even harder.

"I don't have a secret skill." I say. "I've already told you."

"She's a good swimmer." Ethan puts in suddenly. "Really good. She can dive really deep and hold her breath for an eternity." I glance at him in surprise, strangely pleased at his recognition.

"Can she?" Finnick is interested.

"What good is that?" I ask before Ethan can speak again. "So yeah, I might not drown if someone chucks me in a river, but aren't they more likely just to cut my head off? Holding my breath won't help me there."

"No." Finnick says, drawing out the sound thoughtfully. "But you never know what could happen in that arena."

"They might flood it." Mags says quietly.

"Yes," Finnick says. "Although that does seem unlikely. But being able to hold your breath for a long time gives you an extra hiding place, doesn't it?"

"I guess so." I say with a shrug, remembering previous drownings as frantic tributes tried to escape through deep water.

"It also gives you another source of food." Finnick tells me. "If there's a large body of water, you can dive and see what kind of edible plant life there is down there."

I nod.

"You're right, I know," I say. "But you're not listening to me. I can't fight, not at all. I have no idea how to use a bow, I can't throw knives and I've never even _picked_ _up_ a harpoon before."

"I'll help you." Ethan says. "We'll have three days to train, you can learn a lot of good skills in that time."

I blink at him for a moment and he gives me an encouraging smile, before he and Finnick carry on discussing tactics again. I know I should listen since this concerns me too, but I'm too confused. Ethan is my _enemy _and yet here he is, pointing out my skills and offering me new ones. Doesn't he realise that I could master the harpoon (not saying it's likely but that's not the point) and use it against him?

Maybe he's got this right. Maybe working as a team _is_ the only way we'll stay alive, at least in the beginning.

I lean back against the sofa and stare out of the window opposite. The world is whizzing by so quickly it's making me sleepy. The events of today and the threat of impending death suddenly hit me hard and I'm suddenly so tired, I can't keep awake.

The last thing I do before I drop of to sleep is try to decide whether I'm lucky to have Ethan as my district partner or just really really _un_lucky...

* * *

_..._

* * *

_Ahh so we meet the Careers at last! (at least on screen anyway) Hope you enjoyed this chapter, it was rather interesting to write and well, you've got to love Finnick right?_

_Oh and yes, there is some foreshadowing in here. Glaringly obvious actually. Not my most subtle work. Oh well, we all know how this is going to end, don't we?_


	4. Brightly Coloured Fish

_Okay, strange name for a chapter. You'll get it in a minute. Maybe._

_Anyway, it's styling time! Yay! I had meant for this chapter to be longer, but I'm tired and well, I can't be bothered. Thank you to those who are reading this and my pathetic excuse of a story... It will get more exciting in time, I promise, especially when Annie gets in that arena. I'd appreciate it if you'd let me know if you enjoyed this. Thanks. _

_Disclaimer: I don't own Hunger Games or it's characters. I do, however, own the OCs of this story._

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR - BRIGHTLY COLOURED FISHES**

* * *

Since District 4 is actually pretty close to the Capitol (at least compared to most of the other districts) it's only a few hours later that we arrive. I'm not in a particularly good mood so when Ethan stands to have a look out of the window, I refuse to move.

I'm grumpy and lonely and sad and terrified and damn tired.

I'd been asleep for about ten minutes when Violet Lovedaie burst in, her high pitched yapping slicing through my comfortable unconsciousness. I'd put my hands over my ears and tried to stay asleep, but then it increased in volume (if that's at all possible) and I realised she was standing in front of me and trying to get my attention.

I'd said a few bad words and Violet had launched into an impassioned lecture on manners, her angry glare silencing Finnick's laughter. She'd left us alone after a little bit, but by then I was too cross and too scared to sleep.

The train slows as we near the Capitol and I can hear the cheering and shrieking from outside and my curiosity gets the better of me. I slink quietly from my seat and stand behind Ethan, peering out at the bizarre world I've just entered.

Such _craziness_. I've never seen people so ridiculous in my whole life. Their clothes, their make up, their hair. It's complete and utter bonkers. I say as much and Finnick laughs again. When I give him a _'so what?'_ look, he grins broadly.

"I find your honesty refreshing, Cresta." And then his expression becomes serious. "Just make sure you get it out of your system before we get off this train. Those people out there; they're the ones who'll sponsor you, they could mean life and death for you."

I give him a tight nod and turn back to survey the weird people of the Capitol. I feel like I'm looking through the glass of an aquarium, admiring the brightly coloured fish, even smiling a little at the stranger ones, but knowing that if I were to join them in their world, I'd drown pretty soon. They have their world, I have mine. The thought of the crazy Capitols as fish makes me smile, until I realise that actually, _I'll _be the one in the glass box and _I'm_ the one they'll all watch with those amused little smiles. (_'Oh look, she died'_ one of them will say, crestfallen, when I collapse to my knees, a harpoon in my chest).

The analogy makes me sad and I have to turn away.

"Are you alright?" Finnick asks me quietly. I'm in no mood for sarcasm so I just nod. He gives me a worried look. "We're nearly there."

I feel a hand in mine on my opposite side and turn to see Mags. She's so small, she only comes up to my shoulders, but as I look down at her, I feel a huge sense of comfort. Mags won't let me die. Mags believes.

She seems to read my mind and gives my hand a reassuring squeeze as the train comes to a smooth standstill in a large shiny station. My mind whirls as my hand is taken from Mags and I am ushered down the steps, through an endless maze of passageways and doors. I can still hear Finnick and see Ethan, so at least I'm not completely on my own.

I grab Finnick as he passes me.

"Where are we going?"

"To meet your stylist." He replies.

It turns out that before this can happen though, I have to be 'prepped' by a prep team. Back In District 4, 'prep' meant revision for an exam, or a briefing before a job. Apparently here, it means being scrubbed until you're red raw ("Considering you're from district 4, you're _really_ grubby!"), slathered in endless amounts of sticky liquids ("But it's to moisturise, darling!") and then being held down by a bunch of crazy people whilst having every single hair – excepting the hair on your head – yanked from your body ("Men don't like hairy women, sweetie").

Quite frankly, I'm more preoccupied at the moment with _surviving_, not attracting men. But it seems that it's all part of the Game. We can't just kill each other, we have to look pretty doing it.

_Finally_, I am allowed to meet my stylist and the prep team trundle off to find her. I wrap a towel around my body, embarrassed that three complete strangers have seen me naked.

Suddenly, the door swings open, and the tiniest woman I have ever seen skips inside. She's ridiculously petite and when she shakes my hand, it's like shaking a twig.

"Hello." She beams up at me. "I'm Starla, your stylist." I realise she must take inspiration from her name, because she has a mass of white blonde curls that shimmer and glow whenever she moves and bucketfuls of glittery silver makeup plastered across her eyelids. (I can almost hear Ava saying with a disapproving frown _'she must have put it on with a trowel'_...) She even has tiny sparkly stars stuck to her cheeks.

"Cute." I say scathingly, but when she blinks up at me, her strangely luminescent eyes – how do eyes even look like that? – confused and a little hurt, I feel bad and alter my tone. "The stars on your cheeks... they're pretty."

"Thank you!" She smiles, all happy again and I fight a sigh. Capitol people are _weird_. "Right," She says, taking a step back and eyeing me critically. "Let's have a look at you."

She circles me (an image of a vulture springs to mind but I squash it) before examining the scar on my arm where I sliced it on a rock a few years back. She tuts, but moves on, circling me again and then darting in to touch my hair.

"Finnick was right." She says eventually, stepping away again. "You do have pretty hair." I gawp - Finnick said _that_? – but she's beaming up at me again, oblivious to my shock. "It's the colour of coffee beans!"

I just stare at her, and she blushes, her hand going to her mouth.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot you're not from the Capitol."

I narrow my eyes.

"We have coffee in 4." I say through gritted teeth. She blushes harder.

"Right, okay, um..." She suddenly sighs. "I've not done this before, you know."

"Done what?"

"_Styled_ someone."

"Should I be worried?" I ask. She laughs, a high pitch sound, like the tinkling of bells.

"No, sweetie, of course not. I've been with the prep teams for years, but this is my first year as..." Here she pauses dramatically. "_Stylist_."

I sigh as she begins babbling about fabrics and colours and sparkles sparkles sparkles... I think I'd rather be in the arena.

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_..._

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_Please review x_


	5. Invincible

_So we get to see Annie's chariot dress! (Well, in our imaginations, at least) Again, fun chapter to write. I'm getting rather fond of Ethan and I hope you like him too. By the way, I realise I haven't given a physical description of him yet, so I tried fit on into this chapter so you can get a better picture of him._

_As always, Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins but the OCs belong to me._

_Enjoy :)_

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE - INVINCIBLE**

* * *

Despite her worries, Starla seems to know what she's doing. She and her team flit around me like hummingbirds; pinning and tucking material, fixing and arranging my hair and brushing a seemingly endless amount of glitter across my cheeks and eyelids. I just let them get on with it although I'm getting more and more anxious. I can't really tell what I'm going to look like – all I know is that my dress is blue – but it must be pretty good; the prep team haven't stopped gushing since I put it on.

"Just one last touch..." Starla says, lifting something from a small box. As she comes closer, I see it's a headband; brown leather painted with intricate patterns of blue and silver, reminiscent of water. Starla fastens it across my forehead, before arranging some of my dark curls to hide the edges. She steps back, a satisfied smile on her face. "There, beautiful."

I try to look down at myself, but she catches my chin.

"Not yet. I want you and Ethan to see yourselves together." She winks mischievously. "Close your eyes." Sighing but strangely excited, I obey and grasping me by both hands, Starla leads me through the door and down the corridor.

Eventually, we come to a stop and I feel Starla let go of me.

"Starla?" I ask nervously. "Wh-where are we?"

"Open your eyes, Annie."

And so I do.

I'm standing in front of a beautiful young woman, dressed in flowing blues and silvers. Her dark hair tumbles down her back and her skin is luminescent. She looks beautiful and foreign and _terrifying_.

And then I realise I'm standing in front of a mirror and I'm looking at my own reflection... at _myself_. My mouth falls open in shock.

"What do you think?" Starla asks nervously.

I step forward and inspect myself more thoroughly. I'm wearing a floor length dress that shimmers and sparkles like sunlight on water whenever I move, and a cape made of some strange material. I touch it and it ripples, looking so much like water I'm surprised my fingers aren't wet when I pull them away. There are patterned leather cuffs around my wrists that match my headband and some kind of wooden beaded necklace fixed around my throat. There's something vaguely tribal about my appearance; something dangerous and enigmatic.

"Wow." I whisper, still blinking at myself.

"You look beautiful." The man standing next to me says. I look at him properly in the mirror and realise it's Ethan.

"Ethan!" I exclaim, turning to face him. He's dressed similarly to me - in blues and silvers with tribal leather accessories - but his chest is bare. His skin is shimmering gently in the light and he looks inhumanly beautiful and inhumanly dangerous. His hair is pulled back in it's usual style – a short blonde ponytail at the nape of his neck – and his light green eyes haven't changed at all, but he looks completely and utterly different.

I grin up at him.

"We look _terrifying_."

He laughs, giving his shoulders a self conscious wriggle.

"I think that's the idea..."

"Don't move!" Someone bellows from behind him and I am suddenly and momentarily blinded as a tall man with a shock of neon pink hair, dressed in every single possible neon colour, appears in between us. He grins at me, his smile as bright as his clothes, whilst he finishes pinning Ethan's cloak in place. "Your capes will billow out when you're in the chariot and hopefully it'll look like they're made of water." He says, arranging Ethan's over his bronzed shoulders. Seeing me still gawping at him, the man holds out his hand (even his nails are painted in neon yellow!) and I shake it shyly. "I'm Austin." He tells me. "Ethan's stylist."

"Yep." Ethan says with a grin. "And as you can tell, he likes his bright colours..." From behind me, Starla giggles.

"I had to threaten him with bodily harm to stop him from dressing poor Ethan up as a neon fish."

I laugh as Austin rolls his eyes good naturedly, removing himself from between us to tug on Starla's glowing curls.

"Well, I'm glad you did." I say. "These outfits are _amazing_."

She bites her lip.

"You do? I'm so glad. I was worried it's a bit too much."

"No." I turn to look at myself again, admiring the way the light dances across my dress, making me feel invincible. "I look like I could be a threat."

"That was the plan." Finnick's voice drifts across the room and I turn to see him eyeing me appreciatively from the doorway. I flush under his green eyed gaze and run an anxious hand through my hair.

"Don't touch!" Starla chastises, slapping my hand away. "Do. Not. Touch. _Anything_."

I mutter an apology as Finnick strides across the room and puts himself between me and Ethan, grabbing our arms and spinning us round to face the mirror.

"Right, you both look very good – Austin and Starla have done a brilliant job – but these chariot rides are more than just costume parades. You have to act the part too. I want determination and strength, with just a little bit of mystery."

"So no smiling and waving?" Ethan asks.

"A little." Finnick replies. "But make the crowd work for it." Ethan nods and then Finnick gives us a broad smile. "Let's go get you in those chariots."

* * *

_..._

* * *

"Ready?" Ethan asks me. We're standing in our chariot – which is wooden and painted in the same way as our accessories (it's tribal and intimidating and vaguely sexy) – watching as the other tributes are put in theirs and briefed by their mentors. I glance up at him.

"No."

"We'll be fine."

"What if they hate us?"

"They won't."

"They might."

"_No one_ could hate you, Annie." He tells me sincerely and I squint at him suspiciously.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He frowns.

"Exactly what I said. There's nothing about you that anyone could possibly hate."

"I'll bet the Capitol will find something." I mutter, and my gaze drifts towards his bare muscular arms. "I see _you_ got to keep your arm hair."

His blonde eyebrows raise.

"What?"

"The prep team ripped out every single one of mine." I tell him sadly, looking down at my hairless arms. "Because apparently..." And here I stick my nose in the air and put on a snooty Capitol accent. "_Men don't like hairy women."_

He chuckles.

"Finnick was right... You really are bonkers."

* * *

_..._

* * *

_Ahh, Finnick does seem to be talking a lot about Annie! Bless him. As for Annie and Ethan's outfits, I was going for a tribal warrior like look and I hope that came across._

_Anyway, thanks for reading, I appreciate your time and any constructive criticism._


	6. Hope

_A short one tonight, but I couldn't really fit it in with the previous or the following chapter, so here it is, all alone... Enjoy._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Hunger Games and it's characters. I do, however, own the OCs of this story._

* * *

**CHAPTER SIX - HOPE**

* * *

Someone gives the signal and the huge doors ahead of us open wide. The cheers and screams are deafening even from in here. District 1's chariot pulls forwards and then it's barely a minute before ours is moving.

Ethan gives my hand a quick squeeze and then he lets go, the jolting of the chariot forcing him to hold on with his free hand. I clutch the rail in front of me with my left hand, so tight my knuckles are white, wishing I didn't have to hold a harpoon in the other. Austin had appeared about five minutes ago, armed with the two bejewelled weapons.

"It will just _complete_ the look!" He'd told me when I'd objected, handing them to us, before disappearing again into the crowd of stylists leaving the huge room.

"How do I look?" Ethan had asked me with a grin, striking a ridiculous pose with his harpoon. I'd laughed and immediately felt more relaxed.

"Beautiful."

"Well," He'd said with mock modesty. "I do try."

But now my calm is subsiding and I'm beginning to panic. What if I fall? What if I drop the harpoon? What if my cloak flies off? So many potential embarrassments. Ethan seems to read my mind and smiles reassuringly.

"We look awesome." He tells me. "Better than anyone else."

"We better hope the sponsors think so too..."

But then there's no time for talking as we're outside in the open and the cameras are on us and the cheers grow louder.

"See?" Ethan mouths at me. "They love us."

I stare around bemusedly at the shrieking people, a mass of bright colours and wacky hair styles, but then I see myself on the big screen and it takes my breath away.

Our capes are flying out behind us, rippling and flowing like a waterfall. My hair is billowing out behind me too and I'm _glowing_. Ethan is too. I have no idea how – Starla must have plastered me in something – but we look unearthly, unnatural.

The crowds are screaming my name and I manage to form my lips into a smile. The big screen captures it and the volume of the cheering increases, flowers flying at us from all directions. I'm disgusted and exhilarated and terrified all at the same time.

Ethan catches my eye.

"Lift the harpoon!" He yells, and so I do, lifting it high above my head, somehow at exactly the same time as him, as if it were perfectly choreographed from the start. When the cameras cut back to us we already look like victors, triumphant, proud. We're _warriors_.

For a moment I forget I don't know how to fight, I forget that the chances of me winning are practically zero, I forget that I'll be fighting against boys twice my size, and something that feels suspiciously like hope bubbles in my chest. Laughter explodes from my lips and the crowd goes wild.

I barely listen to the President's official welcome, so frantically am I thinking. Who says I can't win? Who says I won't be able to outlive the rest of them?

I finally focus on what the President is saying, just in time for him to announce in a loud voice.

"Let the 70th Annual Hunger Games begin!"

_Yes_, I think determinedly, _let them._

* * *

_..._

* * *

_Aww, some nice optimism for you here. I warn you, though, this will be the last. It all goes pear shaped from here. Sort of._

_Anyway, as always, thank you for reading, please review :)_


	7. Adventures in Training

_Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns Hunger Games, I own OCs. (I'm getting bored of this... from now on, Hunger Games world belongs to Collins, anyone made up belongs to me. Simples.)_

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVEN - ADVENTURES IN TRAINING**

* * *

My optimism doesn't last long.

"In around two weeks time, all except one of you will be dead." The head trainer tells us bluntly. "Your job is to try and make sure that survivor is you."

He then goes on to explain how the training will work. It will start at eight thirty sharp every day and end at eight thirty in the evening. There will be multiple stations set up around the room, covering everything from tree climbing to knife throwing, and experts on hand to give us lessons and help us improve. We will have three days to train and on the third day will be given the opportunity to show what we can do in front of the Gamemakers, who will then score us out of 12. These scores will help in gaining sponsors which in turn will help us survive. There will be no fighting against other tributes and antagonistic behaviour will not be tolerated. (The boy from District 2, Ash, snorts at this). Once the head trainer is sure we are all clear - "and that includes _you_, 2" - we are released to begin our training.

I hold back for a few minutes, watching as the others drift towards the training stations. This is the first time I've properly been able to look at the other tributes and as I do, any hopefulness I may have felt last night disappears in an instant.

For a start, the good majority of the others are bigger than me, with the exceptions of both tributes from 1 and the girls from 3, 11 and 12. It also doesn't help that three of the boys - namely Ethan, Ash and the guy from 7 - all look like they could crush me with one hand.

The girl from 2, Seela, sends me an especially vicious glare when she notices me watching her, before going on to slice a practice dummy in half with one smooth stroke of a sabre.

I swallow.

And she's supposed to be an _ally_.

* * *

_..._

* * *

Ethan take me over to the spears and harpoons first.

"Long range weapons are probably the most useful," He tells me. "You can throw them from a distance, killing your opponent before they get close enough to grab you, or you can stab someone right next to you. Multiple uses."

I frown.

"Do you think I could throw one of these?"

"You're strong, aren't you?" He asks before pausing thoughtfully. "Actually," He continues, picking out a harpoon from the rack. "I know you are, I've seen you swim against a current that would have drowned most of the men back home. Here." He hands me the harpoon. "Show us what you've got."

I eye the closest human shaped target – still a good fifteen metres away – and take careful aim. When I throw, I miss it of course, but it's not the huge miss I was expecting: the harpoon lands only about a metre and a half to the right.

"Not bad." The trainer at the station says. "You have good natural aim and depth perception. Perhaps if you hold it like this..." She pushes me into a different stance and, passing me a new harpoon, positions my arm a little more comfortably. The next throw is closer. The trainer smiles. "Good, now try again."

I spend nearly two hours at that station until I can hit the target with both a spear and a harpoon on most of my attempts. They're never a clean kills, but most of the time, I would have maimed my opponent and given myself the chance to escape. Unfortunately, I have to take twenty seconds or so to line up my aim and I know I won't have _that_ in the arena.

Ethan reappears to check on my progress.

"Where have you been?" I ask him.

"Here and there." He says. "I climbed a tree, had a go with a bow – which by the way I'm absolutely rubbish at – and then practised some camouflage. Now," He grabs a spear and thrusts it into my hands. "Impress me."

* * *

_..._

* * *

Ash from District 2 squares up to the biggest trainer in the room on one of the mats designated for hand to hand combat.

The trainer hits the ground in less than thirty seconds.

* * *

_..._

* * *

As it nears eleven o'clock, my arms are killing me and I find myself drifting towards my comfort zone; the knot tying station. The trainer is eager to see me - he looks like he hasn't had many visitors today - and I humour him by letting him teach me a few basic knots.

I notice he's made a small mistake and when I point it out - completely without thinking - he shoots me a grin.

"I should have known... District 4's outdo me every year."

I give him a rueful smile.

"Sorry, I don't really need to be here, but I just well," I pause embarrassedly. "I feel a bit closer to home tying knots." He nods, before gesturing behind me.

"Well, maybe you can give her a hand?"

I turn to see the girl from... I squint at her suit, District 11. She's pale and far too skinny, but her eyes are bright.

"Could you teach me that?" She asks, nodding towards the knot in my hand.

"Sure." I say and with a smile, she comes and seats herself next to me. I tell her my name is Annie, and in return, she tells me hers is Belle. I teach her some basic knots and how to make a small but sturdy net (it's not strong enough or big enough to catch another tribute, but I doubt this will be one of her main priorities) and in return, she teaches me what kind of plants I should eat and what kinds I should definitely avoid. I teach her how to make a fish hook from a twig and in return, she shows me the best way to climb a tree.

I'm about to ask her to join me for lunch, when Ethan beckons me over. He introduces me to the hulking great boy from District 7 - Reuben - who he has apparently befriended and agreed to ally with. Reuben - who has a pleasant face and floppy red hair - grins at me.

"What about the Careers?" I ask.

Ethan shrugs.

"I'm working on it."

* * *

_..._

* * *

"Having trouble?"

I look up to see a skinny girl with short dirty blonde hair and grey eyes watching me with a little smile. District 12, I think, going by her dusky olive complexion. A quick glance at her suit confirms this.

I'm sitting cross legged in front of a small pile of wood and leaves, trying desperately to light a fire, but it's really _really_ not working. I can see the Careers watching me from the other side of the training room and Seela, is smirking mockingly.

"A bit." I admit to the 12 Girl. "The trainer showed me, but I just can't get it right."

She crouches down next to me and readjusts the position of my hands.

"Are you right-handed?" I nod and she swaps the wood round. "You need the spindle in _this_ hand."

After a few minutes of spinning the spindle, I get a spark. I let out a small squeak of excitement as the 12 girl guides the sparks into the leaves in front of me and it catches fire.

"There." She says with satisfaction. I watch the flames dance in front of me.

"Thanks."

There's a little silence and then our eyes meet.

"I'm Annie." I say. She smiles.

"I'm Elenna."

* * *

_..._

* * *

When he thinks no one is looking, Sneaky Eyes from 11 throws a knife at a target at least forty metres away.

He hits the bullseye.

* * *

_..._

* * *

Ethan eventually drags me over to meet the Careers and our potential allies. The small blonde from District 1 – who I have learnt is called Jasmine – beams at me.

"You looked stunning last night." She says. "That _dress_! I was so jealous."

I manage a weak smile.

"Um thanks. You looked good too, very ah..." I struggle to remember what she was wearing...some heavily bejewelled cat suit I think. "Sparkly."

"Thank you." She trills, somehow looking much younger than I expected. I'd say she's about thirteen... fourteen at the most. Her partner, Preese, is about the same age, and he looks like he'd rather be any place but here.

"It's Annie, right?" Ash cuts in, eyeing me up and down.

"Yes." I say nervously.

"Ethan here says you're both looking to join us?" I nod and Ash crosses his arms. "Well? What can you offer us?"

"Offer you?" I echo confusedly.

"What can you do, _Annie_?" Seela – who is even more terrifying up close – asks scathingly. I take a shaky breath.

"Well, I'm fast and agile." I say. "And I'm pretty good at finding food..."

"We won't need food." Seela interrupts. "We'll have everything at the Cornucopia."

"The Cornucopia doesn't always contain food." Ethan tells her. "Annie can fish, she can identify edible plant life – especially in the water – and I know she makes a pretty good net." A cold smile creeps across his lips. "And nets are always useful for catching _more_ than just food."

Seela smirks and I realise she's actually looking forward to his, to tracking and hunting other teenagers like it's a sport.

"Weapon of choice?" Jasmine asks me. I hesitate.

"I'm not sure yet."

"Ah," Ash slaps me jovially on the back, so hard all the air leaves my lungs. "Can't pick your best one, eh?"

"Something like that..." I mutter hoarsely.

"So do we have an alliance?" Ethan asks.

Ash and Seela glance at each other and then at Jasmine and Preese and finally, back to us.

"Yes," Ash says. "I think we do."

* * *

_..._

* * *

_Well, well, well, a bit of information on some other tributes for you here. Thanks for reading, as always!_

_Here's a list of all the tributes as Annie knows them along with their ages:_

_1 - Jasmine, 13 and Preese, 14_

_2 - Seela, 17 and Ash, 18_

_3 - Mia, 12_

_4 - Annie, 17 and Ethan, 17_

_7 - Reuben, 18_

_11- Belle, 14 and Sneaky Eyes, 16_

_12 - Elenna, 17_


	8. Lullaby

_Please review :)_

* * *

**CHAPTER EIGHT - LULLABY**

* * *

After the first day of training, I'm so exhausted, I just want to flop into bed and sleep forever. But for some reason, I can't. I just can't make myself go to sleep.

I've tried switching off the lights and tucking myself into bed, but that didn't work. I've tried pacing up and down my room for a little while to make me sleepy, but that didn't work either. And now I'm in the small kitchen of our apartment looking for something warm to drink.

I find nothing and not really wanting to go back to bed, I curl up on a sofa, wrapping the soft bath robe I found in my room snugly around my legs.

"Can't sleep?" A voice asks suddenly and startled, I turn my head to see Finnick in the doorway.

"Guess I've got a lot on my mind." I tell him. He nods and comes over to sit next to me.

"How was training?" He asks, before shrugging when I frown confusedly at him. "Ethan told us what he'd been getting up to, but you didn't say a word." It's true, I guess. Ethan had told both him and Mags all about our adventures in the training room over dinner, but I'd kept quiet.

"Good, I think." I say, shifting uncomfortably under Finnick's bright gaze. "I've learnt the basics with a spear, although I can't throw it very far. The girl from 12 showed me how to light a fire and I've learnt a bit about plant life from Belle."

"Belle?" He questions.

"District 11." I pause. "Which reminds me, that boy from 11? He can throw knives better than anyone I've ever seen."

Finnick's eyebrows raise and his lips purse thoughtfully.

"So you were right about him." He is quiet for a moment, before his eyes flicker up to meet mine. "Annie, don't get too friendly with the other tributes."

"I'm not." I say.

"Learn from the trainers, not them." He tells me. "Believe me, being on first names basis with kids you have to kill makes it a million times harder."

"I'm not going to kill them." I say without thinking.

"No?" He shoots me a smirk. "And how do you expect to win?"

I am silent for a second.

"I'm not going to win."

I can see Finnick frown at me out of the corner of my eye, but I avoid his gaze.

"You might." He says.

I snort, looking across at him then.

"Yeah, right. Even you and Mags know Ethan is your best bet." My mouth twists bitterly. "Jasmine – the girl from 1 – asked me today what my weapon of choice is, and I nearly said hiding! Yes, I can use a spear now, yes I could probably hurt someone pretty badly, but I don't want to, Finnick, I don't want to kill anybody." To my absolute horror, there are tears stinging in the corners of my eyes. "I don't want to die, Finnick, but I don't think I could live with myself if I've killed someone. I... I'm just not that kind of person."

Finnick doesn't reply for a little while and when he does, it's with a voice heavy with regret.

"The Games change you, Annie. You do what you have to do."

I swallow hard, blinking away the tears. If I cry in the Games, I'll just look weak and no one will sponsor me then.

"I don't want to change." I tell him eventually when I know I can talk and keep my voice steady. "I like being me."

"I like you being you, as well," He says with a grin. "Even if you do scowl to much." I narrow my eyes at him and he chuckles. "There you go again."

"I only scowl at you." I point out. "And that's just because you're always laughing at me." He smirks, leaning back against the sofa and rest an arm on the back.

"I guess that's true."

"It is." I insist and the tears spring up again without warning. "But I don't know what I'm supposed to do. What am I supposed to feel?"

Finnick's smirk vanishes abruptly and then he's scooting across the sofa towards me.

"I'm sorry." He says softly. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

I wipe my eyes embarrassedly, avoiding meeting his eyes.

"No, it's alright." I sniff. "I don't know why I'm crying anyway, I'm just overtired."

Finnick turns and glances at the clock on the wall behind him.

"It is rather late." He says, turn back to look at me concernedly. "And you'll have to get up early tomorrow for training. Maybe you should try and get some sleep."

"I can't." I mutter. "I can't sleep." Finnick eyes me thoughtfully for a second.

"Close your eyes."

I glance at him, startled.

"What?"

"Close your eyes." He repeats and although I'm more than a little suspicious, I do so. "Imagine you're back home, Annie," He says softly. "In your house, with Ava..." I go rigid at the mention of my Grandmother, but then I feel warm fingers on my arm and the tension begins to leave my body. "You can hear the sea," Finnick continues. "And the seagulls, and the occasional cry of the night fishermen..." Finnick's voice – low and gentle – and the pictures he's creating begin to cloud my mind and I feel my head beginning to droop.

And then suddenly, he's humming. It's a well known lullaby from 4 that most parents sing at some point to their children and I can remember Ava used to sing it to me whenever I had nightmares, right up until I was twelve.

A dull ache spreads through my chest and heaviness overtakes me. I'm not sure whether Finnick's lullaby is making me feel better or just hurting me even more, but whatever it's effect, it's definitely making me sleepy.

As I fall asleep, I hear Finnick sing the last line of the song.

"Everything will be just fine, you'll see."

* * *

_..._

* * *

_But will it?_

_Naww, bit of Annie/Finnick interaction here... they're so fun to write together. By the way, I am in no way good at song writing or poetry so I apologise for the fairly generic song line there. If I was good at stuff like that, it would have some deep and meaningful metaphor but oh well. I decided to put it in, because Suzanne Collins seems quite interested with songs and lyrics in the Hunger Games and so I felt it fitted in quite nicely._


	9. Morals and Lies

_A nice and lovely long one for you today. _

_Sorry if there are any mistakes, I'll check through later of course, but I've got to go pack, because I'm going on holiday tomorrow! yay! Which unfortunately means I may not be able to update... I'm going to continue writing 'cause I'm in the Annie mindset and on a roll, but I'm not sure if there's wi fi where I'm going, so it may be a week before I can post the next chapter :( _

_Or tonight if I'm bored. Ahahaha, who knew this site was so addictive?_

_Anyway, as always, my lovelies, enjoy :)_

* * *

**CHAPTER NINE - MORALS AND LIES**

* * *

Over the next two days, the twenty four of us spend as much time as possible in the training room and the Careers – Ash, Seela, Jasmine, Preese, Ethan, Reuben and Me – all train together. When I'd asked why, Ethan had told me it was to intimidate the other tributes, and I guess it works. We're the biggest Career Pack in at least twenty years, after Ethan had persuaded Ash to let Reuben join (although, to be fair, it hadn't taken much persuasion), and from the outside, we're pretty terrifying. On multiple occasions, I catch the eye of one of the other kids and they shrink away like I'm going to send a spear through their stomach...

Which I could probably do now if I really tried. Ethan's had me throwing spears and harpoons until I hit the target every time. I can't throw further than fifteen metres and it's not always a bullseye, but at least I now have some means of self defence.

Even Ash is mildly impressed by my throwing skills. Of course, he can throw his sword at least three times as far, although his accuracy is far inferior to that of Ethan's. Ash fares much better in close contact with his victim, as does Seela, who is frighteningly good with her sabres. To my surprise, Jasmine also seems to have a skill for fighting at close range and despite her size, has floored a couple of the trainers on countless occasions. She tells me her preferred weapon is "being underestimated" which, considering I'd originally described her aura as 'angelic', makes complete sense. (She _had_ then gone on to add "but having a knife helps too", but then, that makes sense too) Reuben, meanwhile, is pretty skilled with his axes from close quarters and relatively far away. He can hurl them – with surprising accuracy – at least ten metres. I guess being from District 7 and using axes from an early age is a pretty good advantage in the Games...

I soon realise that out of our group, Preese is the only one without a real talent. He's not yet reached his growth spurt and I think even _I_ could snap him like a twig. Not that I'd want to though. He's a nice kid – a little gloomy perhaps but understandably so – and I feel rather sorry for him. Out of all of us, he's the one who is least needed. I may not be hugely talented in the fighting department, but I have other skills and the Careers know it. Preese can't really do anything and, as far as I can tell, has been pampered all his life.

He doesn't stand a chance.

Not that I do, really, come to think of it. If I survive my alliance with the Careers then there are other tributes I have to worry about. Sneaky Eyes from 11, for example, and Elenna, who I've noticed knows her way around a bow. A few of the others also seem to have pretty good aim and that's worrying. No one would dare try and fight the seven of us Careers at close range, but from a distance, who knows?

Of course, as well as the other tributes, there are the Gamemakers: Mutts, fires, lightning, flash floods so powerful even a strong swimmer like me couldn't survive, earthquakes, landslides... even the force field around the arena itself could kill us.

My odds aren't looking good...

* * *

_..._

* * *

On the third afternoon, it's time for our private sessions with the Gamemakers. Since we are called in by order of District, mine and Ethan's sessions are early on, and because it's always _'ladies first'_ in the Capitol, I go in before him. Finnick has already instructed me to show off my new found skills with a spear and that's what I do. I throw three spears and two harpoons – missing once, but then hitting the human shaped target twice in the leg, once in the shoulder and then finally (completely by fluke, may I add) in the chest. Pleased with my one clean kill, I move on and quickly knot up a net, big and sturdy enough to catch another small tribute; perhaps the small dark haired girl, Mia, from 3. The thought of catching someone and then killing them in cold blood makes me suddenly feel very sick, and after demonstrating the strength of my knots and the net I've created, I pause and stand awkwardly, waiting to be dismissed whilst trying to fight the nausea rising in my throat.

The Head Gamemaker, Silas Benedict, is still watching me expectantly and for a fleeting moment, I wonder if I've done enough - should I start a fire perhaps, or climb a tree? – but then he flaps a hand in my direction.

"You are dismissed."

I give a curt nod and leave the training room as quickly as I can without bursting into a sprint. Finnick and Violet descend on me as soon as I'm outside, but I push past them and race up to our apartment. The lift seems to take forever and all I can think about is my spear in that target's chest and that little girl trapped inside a net and Ash laughing as he rams his sword into her stomach and how, in 48 hours time, that's all going to be real.

I barely make it to our bathroom before I throw up.

Only when I think about it later do I realise that's exactly how Finnick won his Games.

* * *

_..._

* * *

When the scores come in, I am in the bathroom, still feeling queasy. By the time I come out, they've already been announced and Ethan relays them to me.

He tells me I received a 8 (for which Mags applauds me) and so did Jasmine. Ethan achieved a 10 (and despite telling me this casually, I can see the pride in his eyes) as did Reuben and Seela. Ash received a 9 (I almost smile when I think about how angry he'll be that he didn't come top... but then I remember all that anger could be directed at me in the arena and I think I might vomit again) and Preese got a 5.

He then tells me that Sneaky eyes achieved a 9 and Elenna, an 8. I can't help but flinch when I hear Belle only received a 4.

I actually do throw up again when he tells me Mia scored a 2.

* * *

_..._

* * *

On the fourth and final day, I spend the day preparing for my interview with Mags, Finnick and Ethan and we work out ways to get sponsors.

Ethan's angle is simple. He's calm and charismatic, but the deadliest tribute out there when he wants to be, and frankly, that's the truth – even if Reuben and Seela got the same score as him. My angle takes a bit more working out. Okay, I got an 8, which is good, _really_ good, but I'm not naturally as outgoing as Ethan is and I'm not as good an actor.

"You're pretty," Finnick says whilst Ethan is off with Mags doing something or other. "And you got that 8, so everyone knows you're tough too. We've already had quite a few inquiries for sponsorship."

"Really?" I ask surprised.

He laughs at me.

"Yeah, they're all under the impression you're some kind of beautiful warrior princess."

I give an unimpressed grunt.

"Well, they're going to be disappointed."

He rolls his eyes.

"Stop it, Annie."

"Stop what? Thinking I'm going to die? Because I am."

His eyebrows knit together in a frown.

"You don't know that."

"I do." I insist irritably. He folds his arms.

You are _such_ a pessimist!"

"No," I say. "Just a realist."

"Stop it!" Finnick suddenly cries exasperatedly, throwing his hands in the air. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

_"Me?"_ I scowl. "What's wrong with _me?_ How about...um I don't know, maybe the fact that I'm going to die tomorrow and the whole _country_ is going to be cheering on my murderer!"

"You don't know that!" He repeats fiercely.

"Of I course I do!" I snap, glaring furiously at him. "Yes, I've got sponsors _now_, but that'll all stop when they realise I'm not what they think I am, that this is all a lie!"

"It's not a lie!" He tells me angrily. "You got an 8!"

"I threw a couple of spears at a target, Finnick! Not a real person."

"It's no different!"

"Of course it's bloody different!" I bawl. "I can't kill someone! For goodness sake, Finnick, I get upset on those whaling trips back home, and they're just _whales_!"

"You'll change, Annie." He tells me forcefully. "You'll do what you have to do."

"No, I won't!" I cry. "I will never _ever_ change! I would rather _die _than kill someone else and just because _you_ had no problem ramming that stupid trident through people's chests, doesn't mean I don't. Not _everyone's_ as cold and heartless as you are, Finnick Odair."

He looks like he's been slapped.

I've never seen him look so... so _hurt._ For a fleeting second I regret my words.

But then, as quickly as the look appeared, it vanishes and his face sets like stone. He takes a few steps forward until he's standing right in front of me.

"Don't you dare judge me, Annie Cresta," He snarls, his green eyes glittering furiously like uncut emeralds. "Not before you get in that arena and see what it's like for yourself."

"With all the help you're giving me," I hiss. "I'll probably die in the first five minutes anyway."

"Good." He snaps. "Then I can focus on Ethan and maybe bring home a winner this year."

And with that, he turns and stalks from the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

* * *

_..._

* * *

_Oh the angst! I love it._

_Anyway, thank you for reading, guys, please review xx_


	10. Plotting Against Stylists

_I HAVE WI-FI! Yay! I won't be posting every day I don't think, I probably won't have time, but I'm hoping every couple of days perhaps? I want to keep this story going at a relatively consistent pace 'cause I always hate it when stories I read get to a crucial moment... and then stop... and aren't updated for a year. It makes me sad... So yeah, I hope to keep updating and finish this bad boy within a few weeks._

_Anyway, thank you thank you thank you to all those who have reviewed! Seriously, I'm so unbelievably happy whenever I see a new one, so keep 'em coming guys, you motivate me so much._

_Alrighty then, gushing aside, I have two chapters for you tonight, I hope you enjoy them..._

* * *

**CHAPTER TEN - PLOTTING AGAINST STYLISTS**

* * *

"You look beautiful." Starla says tearfully from behind me as we both inspect her latest creation in the mirror. I'm in another full length dress, though this time, it's a deeper, fuller, darker blue and the subtle ruffles tipped with white that cascade from my hips and form a train behind me look exactly like cresting waves under an inky night sky. As I walk, the waves crash to shore, glowing gently in a way that makes my first dress look gaudy in comparison.

Before, I looked like I was wearing a flowing river, but now, now I'm wearing the ocean.

No... I _am_ the ocean.

Starla has put me in the similar tribal cuffs as before (and a new matching choker), although not a headband. Instead, she has draped strings of pearls amongst the mass of curls piled on top of my head. The resulting effect is a kind of majesty and power I never thought I could possess.

I turn slightly and the whole dress shifts, the light dancing across my body like starlight.

"You are amazing." I tell Starla, my voice hushed in awe. "How did you even _do_ this?"

She laughs gently.

"I can't tell you that, sweetheart, or else I'd have to kill you." She pauses as I stiffen and pink tinges her cheeks. "Oh Annie, I'm sorry."

"It's fine." I whisper. "I'm fine."

She finishes arranging my dress in silence, her eyes shiny with tears.

Tonight is interview night. I will have three minutes to impress and enchant the Capitol audience and then my bid for sponsors is done. After the interviews, I will go back to District 4's apartment for the last time. Tomorrow morning, I will be picked up by a hovercraft and taken to some unknown corner of the globe and put into an arena. And then I will die.

_I will not cry. I will not cry._

I blink rapidly, focusing very intently on the jewel encrusted neckline of my dress in the mirror, but then a movement in the doorway attracts my attention and I look up to see Mags. She winks at me and shuffles slowly inside the room.

Starla suddenly straightens.

"Right, sweetie, I'm all done." She smiles at me. "I'll see you tomorrow morning." Her smile falters a little but she braves on. "Well, um, don't touch anything at all, least of all those pearls." She stretches up and kisses me on the cheek. "You look stunning, Annie, go knock 'em dead!"

I wince at her unfortunate choice of words and Starla's whole face floods red. She stumbles through another apology, but I cut her off.

"It's okay, Starla, really." I give her a small smile. "You should go and get your seat, I'm sure Austin is waiting for you."

She gives me a tearful nod and then turns and flees the room. As the door shuts, I hear her break into sobs in the corridor.

"Silly girl." Mags mutters with a roll of her eyes as she reaches my side.

"She's sweet enough." I say, feeling like I should defend her. After all, there are worse people here in the Capitol.

Mags gives a non-committal grunt and then steps back a little, her dark green eyes – the exact colour of seaweed – roving over my dress. Her lips curl in satisfaction.

"Beautiful." She announces. "Absolutely beautiful."

"Thank you." I say. "Starla really is an awesome stylist, and the accessories..." I hold my arm out to admire the decorated cuffs at my wrists. "The accessories are genius."

"Oh, Finnick picked _those_." Mags informs me.

I blink at her.

"Really?"

"Yes." She mutters, squinting slightly as she examines my choker. "Said they'd make you look tougher."

"Well, he was right." I say, looking at my reflection again. "And as far as I can tell, these costumes are the only thing getting me sponsors right now."

"You've got that 8." Mags says, straightening again. She must have seen my expression because her grey eyebrows lower slightly and then she sighs. "Finnick said you're having trouble..."

I eye myself in the mirror, avoiding her gaze. So, Finnick has told her of my worries. I wonder whether he's told her how I yelled at him earlier and the awful things I said.

"Trouble?" I echo feebly.

"You don't want to kill anyone." She continues, and my eyes slide over embarrassedly to meet hers.

"Yes." I say, blushing. "It's stupid, I know."

"Stupid?" Mags looks perplexed.

"Well... um, everyone in that arena... is going to be out to kill me." I explain haltingly. "It's stupid that... well, I don't think I'll be able to kill them, even to save myself."

Mags frowns.

"It's not stupid."

"Really?" I ask dubiously.

"No." She tells me. "Not at all."

"_Finnick_ thinks I'm stupid."

Her eyes meet mine in the mirror and she smiles.

"Finnick just doesn't want you to die."

I shrug.

"He told me he did."

She chuckles softly.

"Oh Annie." She says fondly, shaking her grey head, a little secret smile on her lips.

"What?" I frown. But then she's bending down and lifting up the voluminous material of my dress to peer at my feet. "Mags?" I ask hesitantly. She looks up at me.

"Can you walk in those?"

She means my shoes, of course. The six inch heels Starla forced me into despite my vehement protesting when she'd shown me them.

"No, why?" I reply and as she straightens, Mags grins mischievously.

"Because I brought you something... Wait here." She disappears through the door quicker than I've ever seen her move before and then reappears clutching a pair of scuffed leather boots.

_My_ boots.

My eyes widen.

"You kept them for me?" They had been taken away when I'd first arrived in the Capitol – along with the rest of my clothing – after the prep team had stripped me off for my 'prepping'.

"Yes." Mags comes to stand next to me again. "Now take off those stupid shoes and wear these instead."

"But Starla..."

"Starla won't be able to do anything about it once you're on stage," Mags interrupts, winking deviously. "And she won't see them before."

I frown, confused.

"You want me to show people I'm wearing them on stage?"

She nods.

"Yes, though not at first. Your dress will cover them anyway so that shouldn't be a problem. But find a way to work it into the conversation... and then lift up your dress to show the audience."

"But _why_?"

"Because beautiful warrior princesses don't wear silly shoes." Mags says. " And besides, the Capitol will _adore_ it."

"They will?" I ask, unconvinced.

"Think about it... You'll glide on stage; beautiful, terrifying, threatening... but then you'll hike up your skirt and reveal a real girl underneath; cute, funny and down to earth."

"Can't I just be terrifying?" I ask.

She shakes her head.

"No. That girl from District 2 is terrifying, but you... you're more than that."

"I am?"

"You're a person, Annie, a real _human_. You have to make them feel something for you. You want them to realise that yes, you're talented and strong enough to have a chance with winning but you're also a human with a heart." She pauses, reaching out and taking my hand. "All they want is a good show, Annie," She continues, a little bitterly. "But they need a hero, someone appealing to root for."

"And you want that to be me?"

"Yes."

My eyebrows furrow together confusedly. I'd always thought the Capitol wanted their victors ruthless and brutal and beautiful. But then, everyone likes an underdog, and it _is_ easier to root for someone if they're cute and funny; if they still have a youthful lively heart in the face of death... even if the hearts of the audience themselves have long since withered away into dust.

I let out a sigh.

"Alright." I say. "I'll try."

"That's my girl." Mags says, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear in a way that reminds me so much of Ava that my own heart suddenly feels heavy. "I'll see you after the interviews." She turns to leave the room.

"Wait, Mags." She looks back expectantly and I swallow. "How do I... um how do I do that in my interview?"

She smiles.

"Just be yourself, Annie. That's all you need to do."

* * *

_..._

* * *

_So, a bit of Mags for you. She's so sweet... but unbelievably hard to write, I don't exactly know why though._

_As always, thank you for reading and please review x_


	11. Tough as Old Boots

_Interview time! Ahh, so much fun writing this, I gotta tell you. _

_Hope you have as much fun reading it as I did writing it. Enjoy :)_

* * *

**CHAPTER ELEVEN - TOUGH AS OLD BOOTS**

* * *

"Relax, Annie." Ethan tells me.

"How can I," I snap. "When I have to go out _there_ in a few minutes and impress everyone?" I tug at my dress irritably. "I still have no idea what I'm going to say."

We're backstage, waiting to be called for our interview; interviews that the whole of Panem will be watching – including the richest people of the Capitol who's money could mean life or death – and the pressure is really getting to me. The boy from District 3 has just been called, meaning I have approximately three minutes before it's my turn.

"You'll be fine." Ethan assures me. "The Capitol will practically wet themselves with excitement when they see you in that dress."

I can't help but smile at that and he grins back me. He's looking particularly dashing tonight, dressed in a dark blue suit and open neck white shirt. He's got his hair pulled back in his usual rugged style though, so despite his smart appearance, there's still that hint of danger... especially since Austin has so carefully fixed it so that a single strand of dark blonde hair falls untidily about his eyes in both a threatening and appealing way.

"You're not looking too bad yourself." I tell him airily and he chuckles, suddenly gesturing behind me.

"Looks like they want you to get ready." As I turn, one of the stewards waves his hand, indicating for me to follow him and I obey, casting one last terrified look in Ethan's direction. "Good luck!" He mouths. I should probably say the same back to him, since he'll be going on stage after me, but I'm suddenly so petrified I can barely walk in a straight line, let alone form words... which doesn't exactly bode well for my interview.

"...Annie Cresta!" I hear Caesar Flickerman announce my name from stage with his usual enthusiasm, but it doesn't really register in my brain that I should do anything about it. The steward gives me a nudge from behind.

"District 4, you're up."

A little put out that he couldn't be bothered to even use my name, I stumble clumsily on stage.

No, Mags said to _glide. _Think _graceful_.

I correct my posture and think glidey thoughts as I slowly make my way to the pair of chairs in the centre of the stage. I can see the tributes who have already been interviewed sitting in chairs off the far end of the stage but focus on Caesar Flickerman, who is beaming at me from his plush purple swivel chair. This year, his hair and lips are turquoise.

"So, Annie, you're looking particularly stunning tonight..." He tells me with a roguish wink as I seat myself on the chair opposite him. The crowd react accordingly, screaming their approval of my appearance and I lower my gaze modestly.

"Thank you." I smile shyly. "But it's my stylist really, Starla. She's amazing."

"Well, aren't you a sweetheart? Not many tributes give so much credit to anyone else..." Caesar turns to the audience, holding out his arms, ever the showman "Am I right ladies and gentlemen?"

I smile at the audience as they cheer and clap. It's hard to recognise individuals with so many lights shining in my face, but I think I see Starla blow me a kiss.

"Right, Annie." Caesar says, his voice, more serious now, signalling he wants the audience to quieten. "We've already spoken to the majority of the other Careers... a pretty large group this year, isn't it?"

"Yes." I agree. "And we've all been training together. They're all pretty talented."

"I'll bet." Caesar nods. "Some outstanding scores this year. It'll be a good Games."

"It sure will." I say brightly. _Ugh_.

"So, Annie." Caesar leans back in his chair, relaxed and conversational. "You're the first female from District 4 here who hasn't volunteered in a long time. How did you feel when your name was called?"

I freeze. What do I say? Sick? Disgusted? Terrified? _Just be yourself_ was what Mags told me... I take a deep breath.

"To tell the truth, Caesar, I was very worried." I swallow. Was that the completely wrong thing to say? "I mean, I was honoured," I continue hastily. "But I live with my Grandmother and she has no one else to take care of her but me."

There is a sympathetic ripple from the crowd and I realise I haven't blown it. Not yet, anyhow.

Right, they've got to feel something for me...

"I love her very much." I tell Caesar. "She means everything to me and I'm going to try as hard as I can to win this so I can be back with her."

This time the audience sighs with delight at the thought of me, the devoted Granddaughter, winning the Games for my Grandmother. I think briefly of Ava watching this back home and feel a sharp pang of regret for bringing her into this. I hope she doesn't get too upset listening to me speak of her...

"That's beautiful, Annie, really." Caesar is disturbingly convincing at playing sympathetic. "But I'll bet District 4, your home, is very different to the Capitol."

"Yes," I say, nodding. "It is."

"Anything in particular that you've had to adjust to?"

I spot my opportunity.

"Well," I say. "There is one thing I just _cannot_ cope with."

"Really?" Caesar asks excitedly. "What?"

"The shoes." I exclaim with wide eyes and a confused shake of my head. The audience chuckles. "I just can't get my head round them... let alone walk in them."

"The fashions for women here are very high..." Caesar says.

"And for the men too." I add, thinking of Austin's platforms. Apparently that's completely the right thing to say because quite a few members of the watching crowd laugh.

"Yes, yes..." Caesar smiles, before looking questioningly at my own feet, hidden away underneath my dress. "But, aren't _you_ wearing high heels tonight?" He asks. "Most stylists like to put the young ladies in something special."

"_We-ell,_" I say, drawing the sound out in a way I hope sounds guilty. "I'm supposed to be. Starla picked me out some heels..."

"_Supposed_ to be?" Caesar leans forwards, apparently enraptured.

I take a deep breath before spilling my confession out in a rush.

"But I swapped them when she wasn't looking."

There is a pause as the audience untangles my words and then the first delighted laughs begin.

"You _what_?" Caesar exclaims.

"I swapped them." I repeat, looking ruefully into the amused crowd. "I'm sorry, Starla."

"Well, if you're not in matching high heels, Annie, what _are_ you wearing?"

By now the audience is silent again, waiting excitedly for the revealing of my rebellious footwear. Very slowly, I edge the toe of my boot from underneath my gown.

Someone in the front row guffaws and so smiling embarrassedly, I stand and lift the hem of my dress to my knees, revealing my old, saggy, water marked boots from District 4.

The audience erupts like a volcano. Laughs, giggles, cheers, even some wolf whistles. The camera pans to show Starla, who is sitting with her head in her hands whilst Mags, sitting beside her, beams up at me. I laugh at my distraught stylist and encouraged by my delight, the audience laughs harder.

And then, amongst the uproar, the buzzer sounds, indicating my time is up.

"Well, thank you, Annie. We'll see you in the Games." Caesar says, still grinning at me (which come to think of it, with those turquoise lips is truly a terrifying sight). I smile graciously.

"It's been a pleasure, Caesar."

And then I stroll off stage, my dress still hiked up around my knees. Thunderous applause and cheering follows me and then I take my seat with the rest of the tributes.

"Cute." Seela says and although I know it's not a compliment, I smile at her.

Because I _was_ cute and that, coupled with my deadly costumes and my good solid score of 8, means I'm appealing but tough. The best combination apparently when it comes to sponsors.

By now the audience is settled again as Ethan has joined Caesar on stage. I scan the crowd of faces and suddenly meet eyes with Finnick. He grins and gives me a wink.

I smile back, settling comfortably into my seat, taking his gesture to mean I am forgiven and that I did damn good job up there tonight.

* * *

_..._

* * *

_There you go... Annie storms her interview. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please review, thank you xx_


	12. Warnings

_Another longer one for you todayy... I had to get everything in before the start of the Games, which will be in the next chapter. Exciting stuff._

_Just wanted to say thank you to those who have reviewed, I really appreciate it. Oh and thanks to those who've alerted and favourited this story - knowing people are enjoying this motivates me to continue :)_

_As always, enjoy x_

* * *

**CHAPTER TWELVE - WARNINGS**

* * *

As expected, Ethan's interview went very well. He was friendly and charming (not to mention by far the best looking out of all the male tributes), but you could tell he was a serious contender as well.

As us tributes file back into the training centre lobby and then the elevators, I think about the other interviews. Jasmine had gone on stage first of course, dressed in a lot of pink and giggling, whilst Seela had been the complete opposite. Glamorous and lethal in a floor length black sequinned dress that hugged every curve, there had been little doubt as to which angle her mentors were taking. She'd smirked her way through her interview, naturally mysterious and enigmatic in a way I could never replicate, no matter how hard I tried. I couldn't help but feel a little envious as I'd watched her before my own interview.

Preese had been... unremarkable – I barely remember much about his three minutes – whilst Ash was loud, charismatic and arrogant. He had refused to acknowledge any of us as a real threat and had brashly promised to see Caesar afterwards for his victor's interview. (Backstage at the time, I had seen a muscle in Ethan's jaw twitch at that.)

Only a few of the other interviews stood out; Reuben's, of course, I paid attention to. His angle was his strength coupled with his cheeky smile and it worked rather well. Belle had been quiet and shy and nothing Caesar said drew her out, Elenna had been defiant – "don't count me out just yet" - and Sneaky Eyes...

Well, let's just say he'd been _worrying_.

Caesar had questioned him about his training score of 9 and asked him if there was any chance he'd tell the audience how he got it. Sneaky Eyes had paused, considering, and then leant forward ever so slightly.

"Well, I'll tell you this," He'd said ominously. "I want to win and I could. Those Careers..." And here, those unsettling eyes had shifted briefly in our direction. "They'd better watch their backs, s'all I'm saying."

And now, standing in the elevator with him, Jasmine and Preese, I'm beginning to see him as a real threat. He could pick us Careers off one by one if he wanted. Maybe we should take his advice and watch our backs very carefully indeed.

"Night, Annie." Jasmine says brightly as the elevator stops on the first floor. "See you tomorrow."

"Night." I say absently, as Preese gives me a silent wave. And then the doors shut behind them and I'm left alone with Sneaky Eyes.

I watch him surreptitiously from the corner of my eye as he stands, hands deep in his pockets, eyes slightly narrowed.

Suddenly, his eyes slide over to meet mine.

"Staring at me for any reason in particular?" He asks sarcastically. Maybe I wasn't as surreptitious as I'd hoped.

"No." I bluster, looking away. "No, I wasn't... I just...Um. No." I swallow, reaching up to fiddle self consciously with the pearls in my hair. "Sorry."

He doesn't reply and then a couple of seconds later, the lift stops on level 4. As I start towards the doors, he reaches out and grabs my arm, forcing me to turn back to him. When I gasp in alarm, he shoots me a self satisfied smirk.

"See you in the Games, District 4." He purrs in a way that sounds like he's going to _enjoy_ it when we come across each other in that arena. I should probably answer him with something calm and nonchalant to prove I'm not afraid of him, but he's just too creepy. All I manage is a wide eyed and terrified _Mmm _and a lot of nervous head nodding.

His smirk widens – apparently pleased I'm so scared – and then he releases my arm, allowing me to make my escape. I dart out into the apartment, glancing behind me only to see his horrible smirk aimed in my direction as the doors slide shut.

I sink down on the sofa and curl up in a ball.

He's just trying to get in your head, I tell myself, he's just trying to creep you out. I will _not_ fall for his mind games, I _refuse_ get myself worked up... but as my hands start shaking and tears burn in the corner of my eyes, I realise it's a little too late for that.

* * *

_..._

* * *

By the time the others get back – held up by the crowds – I've managed to calm down a bit. I'm pretty sure my eyes are a bit pink but apart from that, I look relatively calm, seated on the sofa and watching the highlights of the interviews.

"Oh good, you made it back!" Violet exclaims as she appears through the elevator door. "Your interview, darling." She gushes, throwing her arms up emphatically. "Was just genius! I loved every second!" I manage to give her a weak smile, but am saved from having to speak by Finnick.

"You managed to avoid the crowds, I see." He says and I nod. "Well," He continues, loosening his tie. "You should probably get ready for bed, it's an early start tomorrow." Again, I nod silently, something that does not go unnoticed.

"You're awfully quiet tonight." Violet tells me brightly and I have to bite back a sarcastic comment. (Perhaps that has something to do with the fact I'll probably die tomorrow? Or if not, then the day after that?) In the end, I just shrug.

"Just tired, I guess."

"Well, why don't you pop off to bed then?" She asks, sounding exactly like she's talking to a five year old. Again, I bite back the sarcasm.

"Okay," I say tiredly. "Good night."

"Good night, Annie." Ethan gives me a smile and I manage a half one back.

"Night."

As I traipse towards my bedroom, Finnick calls after me.

"Annie?"

I turn, a smidge irritated.

"What?"

"I want to talk to you. Just give me ten minutes or so to speak with Ethan, okay?"

I sigh a little – just wanting to get to sleep and escape this nightmare for a little while – but nod. As I turn back, Mags darts – well, shuffles quickly – after me.

"I'm sure you need some help with that dress, eh?"

I give her a grateful smile and then the two of us make our way to my room, Mags shutting the door behind her. She gestures for me to sit on the chair in front of the dressing table and then begins pulling the pearls from my hair.

"You did well." She tells me and I smile.

"Thanks, but I just did what you told me to." She nods, but before she can reply is distracted as part of the pearl string proves especially reluctant to be removed. She doesn't speak again for a little while and neither do I.

"How are you feeling?" She asks eventually.

"Scared." I admit. She gives me a little smile in the mirror.

"Understandable."

Neither of us speaks for a few minutes as Mags lays the first string on pearls on the dressing table and then starts on the second.

"I'm not going to win this, am I?" I ask suddenly. Her expression remains neutral but I see the pain in her eyes.

"Maybe." She says.

"There hasn't been a winner since Finnick."

"I know."

"Maybe Ethan will win."

I flinch suddenly as the pearls she's removing tug sharply at my hair. Mags apologises and then sets about removing the many, many grips holding my style up. She works quickly, her fingers surprisingly dexterous for an older woman.

"Any last minute advice?" I ask after a little while.

She pauses for a minute, contemplating.

"Don't be afraid to run." She says eventually. I frown.

"What?"

"I've seen many tributes die because they feel they should stay and fight – especially Careers." She pulls the last grip from my hair and then lets go, allowing it to fall across my shoulders. "But sometimes running is the best option."

I am puzzled.

"I would have thought most people would just leg it as a natural reaction."

"Ethan wouldn't." Mags points out. I consider this for a moment and then realise she's probably right.

"He has no need to run." I say. "He could take on anyone in that arena."

Mags eyes meet mine in the mirror.

"I know you want to stay with Ethan," She says and there's a note of urgency in her voice. "And I know he'll be a good protection, at least at first. But he..." She pauses, struggling for words. "He views running from a fight as cowardice. You can't afford to think like that in the arena." She gathers all my hair in her hands and pulls it over one of my shoulders, raking her fingers through it to remove the tangles. "Ethan's going to get himself killed if he refuses to run at the first sign of trouble."

"You don't think Ethan can win this?" I ask, shocked.

"I just think he overestimates himself." She says quietly. "He's a good fighter, but he's not vicious, he's not naturally aggressive, not like that boy from 2..." I nod at that. I could imagine Ethan killing someone, but only in self defence, whereas Ash... well, let's just say I'm hoping I'll be able to outrun him when the time comes.

"So, if I have to, I should leave Ethan behind?" I ask.

"Only one person comes out." Mags says sadly. "Maybe it's best you two split up at some point, so it doesn't come down to the two of you." I nod and then we are both silent for a few minutes, not really doing anything, just sitting there... thinking. Eventually, Mags sighs. "Shall we get you out of this dress then?"

* * *

_..._

* * *

As it happens, it's around fifteen minutes later that Finnick finally knocks on my door.

"Are you decent?"

Mags hands me a dressing gown.

"Yes." I call back, pulling it on over my pyjamas. The door opens and he appears in the doorway, still dressed in his suit. He grins at me but his eyes are tired.

I guess this is all very hard for him; being here every year, watching tributes – often kids he knows – die under his care... And of course, it's all a reminder of his own Games too, now nearly five years ago. Because everyone knows, even if you escape the Hunger Games, you can never leave it behind.

The Capitol does not let you forget.

"Good night, Annie." Mags says softly. "I'll see you tomorrow morning."

"Night." I smile at her as she shuffles from the room, pulling the door shut behind her and leaving me and Finnick alone. He doesn't move for a minute, just stands near the door, regarding me silently.

Eventually, I get uncomfortable.

"So," I say, sitting on the bed and crossing my legs. "You wanted to talk to me?"

"I did." He says.

"So, talk." I say with a shrug.

He takes his jacket off and chucks it on the end of my bed, before grabbing the chair from the dressing table and spinning it round to straddle it, resting his arms on the back. When he still doesn't speak, I decide to take the initiative.

"What did you talk to Ethan about?"

"This and that." He replies vaguely.

"Oh." I say, fiddling with the sleeve of my dressing gown. "Is it all top secret then?"

"No." He frowns. "It's just not very exciting."

"Go on." I say, interested. "What did you talk about?"

Finnick purses his lips for a second.

"I told him to protect you."

"I don't need protecting." I reply immediately. He raises an eyebrow. "Well, okay," I amend, "Maybe I do. Just a little." The beginnings of a grin flicker across his face but then it fades. I smile ruefully. "That was...generous of you to tell him that."

"He would have done it anyway." Finnick tells me and then pauses, looking at me with furrowed eyebrows. "What do you mean '_generous_'?"

"Well, I know you're betting on Ethan." I say, watching my hands twist in my lap. "And giving him the job of protecting me could put him in danger."

Finnick sighs.

"I'm not betting on Ethan, Annie."

I frown.

"What?"

"Well, I'm not _not_ betting on him, if you know what I mean. I just... I just think you both have a shot at this."

"Really?"

He smiles.

"Of course."

"But how can I" I ask, unable to help a little bitterness creeping into my voice. "When I don't think I'll be able to kill anyone?"

Finnick doesn't reply at first and I know he's thinking about our fight earlier.

"_Mags_ never killed anyone." He says eventually. I stare at him.

"She didn't?"

"No. She was just very good at surviving..." He pauses and shoots me a smirk. "And hiding."

"But how...?"

"She ended up in the final three – having hidden from the start of the Games – and then the other two fought, pretty violently I think, since once one was dead, the other went off looking for Mags and before he found her, collapsed from blood loss. She only had to wait for him to die and she was the victor."

I frown thoughtfully.

"And she didn't kill anyone?"

"Not at all." Finnick ducks his head a little so he can see my eyes. "That's why I was out of line earlier when I shouted at you. I'm sorry, Annie."

"I'm sorry too." I mutter. "I just don't want..."

"Don't." He cuts me off. "I know you'll do what you have to in that arena, and whether that's kill someone or just run away, it doesn't matter. Just..." He pauses awkwardly, suddenly very interested in the carpet. "Just stay alive." Then his eyes meet mine and they're startlingly intense. "Please."

I stare at him, caught in his green eyed gaze. My mouth is suddenly dry and I have to swallow. Hard.

"Okay." I manage to whisper and then he grins, the spell broken and the intensity gone.

"That's all I'm asking." There is a moment of silence before he speaks again. "Stay with the Careers for as long as it's safe." His voice is serious now, his tone all business. "You'll know when to leave, just trust your instincts. Don't stay with them if you're beginning to feel like they could flip at any moment, because the chances are, you're right. And about Ethan..." He frowns. "I'd advise you to leave the Career alliance with him – you might both need each other to get away – but then it's probably best if you go your separate ways." He suddenly smirks at me. "After that it may be a good time to utilise your weapon of choice."

"What's that?" I ask, confused. He chuckles.

"Hiding."

I throw a pillow at him and he catches it, grinning at me. And then I sigh.

"Mags basically said the same thing, so maybe you're right."

"Mags knows her stuff." Finnick tells me. "But then again, so do I." I'm tempted to lob another pillow at him, but I settle for just rolling my eyes. He chuckles again, before standing up and throwing my pillow back at me. "Here. You should probably get some sleep. You'll need it tomorrow."

I am suddenly sober.

"Yes, I will."

"Hey," Finnick says softly. "Don't worry. You have sponsors, lots of them."

"Sponsors aren't going to stop me from getting stabbed to death." I point out sombrely.

"Well, no." He admits. "But they'll help a lot. And me and Mags will be watching; we'll make sure you get what you need. Now," He grins at me. "Time for beddy-byes, eh?"

I narrow my eyes at him.

"You sound like Violet."

"That was the idea." He says grandly, before turning and heading towards the door. "Goodnight, Annie."

As he opens the door, I call after him.

"Finnick, wait."

He turns back.

"What?"

I hesitate.

"When... when this is all over," I say haltingly. "Will you... will you look after Ava for me?" His eyes harden and his jaw tightens, but he nods, just once. "_Promise_ me?" I persist.

"I promise you, Annie." He says with a sigh. "Now, try and get some sleep, okay?"

And then he shuts the door behind him, leaving me feeling very alone on my last night ever in civilisation. As I lie down and pull the covers over me, I can't help but wish I could hear the sea and the seagulls and the occasional cries of the night fishermen and be able to pretend – just for a minute – that I'm back in District 4 and that none of this is happening.

* * *

_..._

* * *

_Thank you for reading and reviewing (hint hint) x_


	13. Countdowns

_The day of the Games now! By the way, I'm well aware that Annie's journey to the arena is not true to either the film or the book and is sort of an odd mix of the two plus my own strange ideas. I also forgot to mention that last chapter, I gave Mags a Games story. I have no idea if she already has one but I like mine and it fitted in with the conversation, so sorry if I'm playing with the Hunger Games world. I'm sure Suzanne Collins won't mind ;)_

_As always, thanks for the reviews, I'm thrilled whenever I log on and see I've got new ones :) _

_Enjoy..._

* * *

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN - COUNTDOWNS**

* * *

The next morning, Violet wakes me up bright and early, trilling that I have a 'big, big day' ahead of me. Her perkiness is grating and I am in a foul mood by the time I am dressed for breakfast. No one speaks much as we eat, although Finnick looks like he might say something a couple of times. But then he apparently decides not to and the silence is maintained. Not even Violet breaks it.

I eat a lot and so does Ethan, although by the end, we're both forcing it down. I guess we both know we might not have much in the arena and we want to be full enough to last a little while. I avoid the sugary treats though, not wanting a crash later on when my energy will be most needed. Hopefully there'll be some fish to catch in the arena. If not... well I'm not sure. I don't think I'll be very good at hunting rabbits.

After breakfast, all of us tributes meet in the training centre along with our mentors and stylists and then we are led to a hovercraft. We are allowed a final five minutes with our mentors before we board, although our stylists will be coming along to get us ready for the arena.

Mags gives me a hug and a peck on the cheek.

"Remember to run when the time comes." She whispers in my ear. "And when you hide, make sure you hide well." I give her a brief nod as she pulls away and she gives me a sad smile. "Good luck, Annie."

"Thank you." I say and then she moves on to Ethan. I see her tell him something and wonder vaguely what she's said.

"Well," Finnick says from behind me and I turn to look up at him. "I guess this is it, then."

"Yep." I say, feeling faintly nauseous.

"See you on the other side?" He asks.

"I'll try."

"Good." He suddenly pulls me into a hug, his arms going around my waist. I am surprised for a second but then surrender to his embrace, his strength and warmth making me feel just a little less vulnerable for a moment. "Stay alive." He mutters into my hair. I nod, pressing my nose into his chest. Despite the time we've spent in the Capitol, he still smells like home and I take a few deep breaths.

"I'm scared." I whisper after a few moments, my voice muffled against his shirt. Somehow he hears.

"I know."

"Keep me alive?" I ask, looking up at him with a little smile. He flashes me a grin, as if knowing that seeing it will make me feel better.

"I'll try." He says, echoing my own words from just a few minutes ago, and although I know I'll be able to count on him, my throat constricts a little. What can Finnick do, really, when Ash decides it's time to turn on me? As if reading my thoughts, Finnick lowers his head to talk in my ear. "Trust your instincts, Annie. Get away from the District 2s as soon as you feel you have to." I nod and he straightens, pulling away and releasing me.

All of a sudden, I feel horribly cold and alone.

Finnick suddenly fumbles in his pocket.

"Oh, I nearly forgot." He says. "I noticed you hadn't got a token and I thought you might like this..." As he holds his hand out, I see in his palm, a small length of plaited of twine. I recognise it immediately as a kind of bracelet fairly common in District 4 and just looking at it gives me a lump in my throat. "I've run it past the Gamemakers" Finnick continues. "They're pretty sure you can't use it as a weapon..." He looks up and sees my expression. He must misinterpret it because he suddenly bites his lip. "If you don't want it, that's okay. I don't mind...I guess I wanted you to have a little piece of home when you're in the arena."

"No," I interrupt, my voice cracking a little with emotion. "No, it's beautiful, thank you." I reach out and take it from his hand and examine it. It's made of sturdy twine, plaited so intricately, it's hard to work out how it was put together.

"I know it's not the most elaborate..." Finnick begins uncertainly, but I cut him off.

"No, I love it. Really."

Back home, you can get these bracelets in any combination of colours, with any combination of beads and charms woven through, but this one is just twine – no decorations – in two of the most common colours; blue and brown.

But somehow, I like it better this way.

"I'll put it on for you, then." Finnick says, sounding somewhat relieved. I pass the bracelet back to him and hold out my wrist expectantly. He ties the ends of the bracelet tightly, his brow furrowed in concentration. I know the only way it'll come off now is if I cut it with an especially sharp knife, because these bracelets and the knots we use to tie them are completely unbreakable; probably why they are often used to symbolise eternity back home. We even have special ones used in the marriage rituals of 4.

"There." Finnick says, stepping back a little. "Now you'll be reminded of home every time you look at it."

And you, I think unexpectedly.

"Thanks." I say, twisting my wrist and admiring my new found token. He opens his mouth to reply, when someone from near the hovercraft calls loudly.

"Time's up."

I glance at Finnick, suddenly panicked, as a steward appears to lead me away.

"Go on, Annie." He says with a reassuring nod as I am pushed forward. "And good luck."

I feel like I should say something back, but before I can, I am being lifted onto a ladder and then I can't move or speak or even blink. Some sort of current keeps me frozen as the ladder slides smoothly upwards and I'm lifted into the hovercraft. A man dressed in a white coat appears with a very large and ominous looking needle.

"I'm just going to inject your tracker, Annie." He tells me. "It hurts less if you're still." No matter what he says, the needle is exceptionally large and it hurts like hell when he pushes it into my arm. If I could move, I'd probably flinch. A little blue light flashes a couple of times under my skin and then stops, the only visible sign there's something inside of me the little hard lump just under my shoulder.

The ladder releases me then and I am led to a seat, alongside all the other tributes. The man in the white coat helps me sit and then pulls a harness down from over my head that keeps me pressed firmly against the back of the seat.

"Wouldn't want anything to happen to you, now, would we?" He says in a way that I assume is meant to be reassuring, but just makes me feel sick.

They won't be worrying about my safety so much once I'm in the arena.

As the hovercraft takes off, I realise I am sitting opposite Elenna. I can't see anyone else, since the harness is pretty much blocking out everything except her. She gives me a half smile but I see the fear in her eyes. I expect it's reflected in mine but I try to smile back at her.

I think I'd probably be friends with her under any other circumstances, as I would be with Belle and Reuben and maybe even Jasmine. As I sort of am with Ethan. It's dangerous, considering people as almost friends, caring about them, because as much as I want to live, I don't want to see any of them die – least of all Ethan – and I certainly don't want to be the one who kills them.

But as Mags reminded me last night, only one of us makes it out of this, and if I want that to be me, then every single person in this room has to die...

And I'm not sure I can live with that.

* * *

_..._

* * *

After nearly an hour, the windows black out and I assume it means we're nearing the arena. It turns out I'm right since two minutes later, the hovercraft lands. The harnesses lift and Starla suddenly appears in front of me. I follow her out of the room and then back down the ladder. We are in the catacombs underneath the arena now and she leads me on a long and winding route – chatting cheerfully about various unimportant things and smiling bravely despite her red rimmed eyes – until we reach a door marked '4, Annie Cresta.'

When I get inside, I see a table covered with prettily decorated nibbles, a water dispenser, a rail with my outfit on and a glass tube... the tube that will take me up in exactly an hour to the arena and most likely to my eventual death.

Starla darts over to my outfit, inspecting it thoughtfully. I follow, wondering if the Gamemakers have decided to have a little fun this year and give us outfits completely unsuited to the arena. I decide they probably haven't. It's much more exciting to have us die gruesome and bloody deaths rather than freeze to death because our clothes are too thin.

Starla passes me the clothes and I change into it silently. The outfit the Gamemakers have chosen this year is fairly standard; tight but flexible black leggings made from some tough fabric I've not come across before, a long sleeved black top, a thick black fleece and a large but relatively thin dark green jacket. I am pleased to note my clothes are warm and comfortable and that I have been provided with thick dark green socks that rise an inch or so above my black boots. Starla insists on lacing up the boots despite my protests and once she's done, she taps them approvingly.

"These are sturdy," She tells me. "And waterproof. As is the jacket, which will also reflect heat and help keep you warm." She stands and sets about straightening my clothes. "I'm surprised they've given you such a thick fleece." She says.

"We're a talented bunch this year," I say drily. "They don't want any of us to die without a good fight." I'm probably right as well. The chances of dying of cold are severely reduced by the clothes I've got on, meaning there's more chance of an 'exciting' death. I might just take off my fleece and let myself die of cold – it sounds a lot more peaceful.

But no. I said I'd try and get out of this; I'd try and win. I rub my thumb across my bracelet, thinking of Ava and home and the sea and the sun and strangely enough, Finnick.

"Do you want something to eat whilst I do your hair?" Starla asks. I shake my head, worried I might throw up and lose everything I've eaten this morning, and then she produces a hair brush. "Turn around."

I feel her braiding my hair and once she's done, she pulls it over my shoulder. Taking it in my hand, I realise she's fish tailed it – something else that's common back home. It's stupid, I know, but tears spring up in my eyes. For once, Starla seems to realise that talking isn't really what's needed now and she just pulls me into a hug.

Eventually though, I pull away and we sit on the small sofa, waiting for the announcement that I should get ready for launch. When it comes, Starla gives one last kiss on the cheek and then leads me towards the glass pod.

"You can win this." She tells me. "You're a beautiful warrior princess."

"Thirty seconds." The announcer tells us pleasantly.

"Thank you." I whisper. I know it's probably not true and that my chances of winning this are pretty low, but it's nice that she believes in me. She gives my hand a squeeze.

"Fifteen seconds."

I step inside the tube and the glass door closes around me. The small size of the pod makes me feel claustrophobic and I have to take a few deep breaths. I'm still fighting the urge to vomit and I realise my hands are shaking.

"Five seconds."

I meet eyes with Starla, most likely for the last time and she smiles sadly. Her bottom lip wobbles and I realise she's fighting back tears.

I have to swallow, my mouth suddenly dry.

And then my pod is rising upwards and I tilt my head back to look up as the ceiling opens above me. The fresh air hits me like a wave and I have to squint in the sudden brightness of daylight, but then I focus. I can't move for sixty seconds for fear of being blown sky high, but I can look and I can take it all in.

We're standing in the centre of a huge clearing, all twenty four of us positioned equal distances apart in a semi circle around the cornucopia. As with most years, it's ram packed with useful things – food, weapons, sleeping bags, even containers of water. I spot a spear within sprinting distance and realise that should be my first goal. After the bloodbath, all the other supplies will be ours, but my initial focus has to be surviving it. Although I'm in the Career alliance, the first few minutes of the Games are practically a free for all. I won't target other tributes as they disappear into the forests – I don't think I can do that – but I'll have to grab a weapon and protect myself. The Careers will get rid of me without a second thought if I'm injured enough to slow them down.

My eyes flicker towards the huge digitised timer mounted above the cornucopia.

Thirty five seconds.

I risk a glance around me and see thick forest on all sides. From what I can tell, the arena is an enormous circle and the cornucopia is at the centre of it. Huge white cliffs, lining the edge of the arena, rise high into the blue sky and act as barriers. To my right, about four or five miles away and embedded into one of the cliff faces, I see an enormous dam wall. I know what it is because there is one similar in the northern parts of District 4 and it's most likely controlling the water flow into the arena. Well, at least that means there _is_ water.

I look at the timer again.

Ten seconds.

I tense, my eyes focusing on the spear. _Mine_, I think possessively.

Five seconds.

I feel myself lean forward a little, my fists clenched, the adrenaline pumping.

Three.

Two.

One.

* * *

_..._

* * *

_And so the Games begin. Last bit of Finnick cuteness for you there... (or is it? hmmm)_

_I'm not entirely sure when I'll next update as I've got a lot on now, but hopefully it will be soon - very soon if I can. Thanks for reading everybody, please review xx_


	14. All Part of the Games

_WARNING: From now on, there will be violence, blood and unpleasant circumstances. Just so you know._

_Right, I've changed the rating to M for violence and gore - this is the Hunger Games afterall. But I'm going to warn you now... this chapter ain't pretty and some of you might find the events of the bloodbath disturbing. It won't all be like this, I promise (I'm not planning too many horrifically gory deaths) but well, this is the bloodbath, so there's gonna be blood._

_I'm also well aware that the 70th Hunger Games were described as 'boring', but no one wants to read boringness, so I'm going to ignore that, at least at first anyway._

_So here we go guys... Let the Games Begin!_

* * *

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN - ALL PART OF THE GAMES**

* * *

The gong rings out, loud and clear in the silent clearing and for the briefest of moments, time stands still... But them I'm off, sprinting across the clearing like a deer, my eyes fixed firmly on my weapon. What I'll do after I've got it in my hands, I'm not entirely sure. All I know is that I need a weapon and my best bet is that spear.

I fly across the grass and there's only about three metres between me and my prize, when someone barrels straight into me. All the air leaves my lungs and with a breathless cry, I hit the ground, rolling over a few times. I land on my stomach and look up – dismayed– to see the boy from District 6 on the ground a few metres away. We stare at each other for a second, both wide eyed and winded – neither having meant to run into each other – but then he scrabbles in the grass and I see his fingers close around a knife.

_No!_

I risk a glance for my spear but it's too far and I won't reach it in time. I turn, panic stricken, back to the boy and see the knife is in his hand, raised above his head.

My only thought is how humiliating it's going to be to die in the first thirty seconds of the Games.

But then an arrow pierces his wrist, and he screams in agony, his blade falling harmlessly to the ground. I look over his shoulder to see Elenna, standing a good fifteen metres away, her bow raised and still pointing at the boy from District 6. Our eyes meet and I want to ask her _why_, but then she turns tail and bolts, disappearing into the greenery before my lips have even formed the word.

I drag myself to my knees, turning my attention back to the District 6 boy. Despite his injury, he's going for the knife again.

"Oh no you don't." Reuben appears above him, already armed with two axes. The boy drops the knife in alarm and scrambles backwards, all arms and legs like a terrified insect. I expect Reuben to smash one of the axes into his head, but he drops them next to me and swoops in on the boy. I hear a sickening snap of bone as Reuben's arm tugs backwards and then the boy from District 6 falls, a limp body on the ground, his neck twisted at an odd angle.

Reuben turns to me and holds out a hand. A hand which seconds ago snapped someone's neck. But well, if it wasn't for Reuben, I'd be dead, so I take it and let him pull me to my feet.

"You alright?" He asks, picking up both his axes and effortlessly swinging the one over to rest on his broad shoulder. I realise I'm very _very_ glad to have him on my side, even if it's only for the time being.

"Yeah," I shoot him a grateful smile. "Thanks."

"No problem." His eye rests on something just behind me. "Were you aiming for that?"

I turn to see my spear, still lying unclaimed in the grass.

"Yes, but I..." I dart over and pick it up. "I sort of got held up." I straighten and move back towards Reuben, passing the weapon from hand to hand as I do so. It's long, lean weight is reassuring in my hands.

I suddenly realise there's not much fighting going on around us.

"Wait." I glance around just in time to see Ash yank his sword from some boy's body. Ugh. "Is it over already?"

"Mostly." Reuben says, looking over my shoulder, his expression tightening. I turn and follow his gaze to where Seela has a small blood soaked body pinned to the ground. The screams are suddenly awfully loud in the near silent clearing.

"Who?" I ask quietly, although I think I already know. My stomach flips and I have to swallow back the rising nausea. _Please let me be wrong._

Reuben doesn't answer me since he's already striding off towards Seela and her sobbing captive. I race after him.

"Annie!" Ethan jogs up behind me, a bloody harpoon in his hand... _Bloody? _He sees my expression and has the decency to look embarrassed. "Jasmine's kill really. I just finished him off." I nod but by then we're nearing Seela and the screams distract him. "Oh hell, is that Mia?"

It _is_ Mia. Shy, little, dark haired, twelve year old Mia, trapped beneath Seela's thighs, the older girl's knife travelling teasingly across her pale skin. As I get closer, I see her stomach has been sliced open – cleanly, neatly, the work of a _sabre –_ and there's no way she'll recover from it, no way she'll live.

The little girl is dying and Seela is _enjoying_ torturing her.

I feel tears burn in the corners of my eyes, but what can I do? Seela has to be my ally and she's not the kind of person you interfere with. I stop a little behind Ethan, feeling worse than I ever have in my entire life. Mia screams again – high pitched _agonised_ begging – and my heart twists. Reuben's eyes briefly meet mine and I can tell he's hating this too. Reuben is no coward but even he doesn't want to stop Seela on her blood-thirsty mission. None of us want to ruin the alliance before it's even begun.

There's a few more seconds of cries, and then I see Ethan tense up. Suddenly and furiously, he strides forward and slams his harpoon into the little girl's chest. Her head slumps almost immediately and the clearing is silent.

Relief is my first emotion – the little girl is no longer suffering – but then it's completely overshadowed by the _shame_... Ethan had the guts to do what no one else would. I have to swallow a couple of times to work past the unforgiving lump in my throat.

Seela stilled the moment Ethan intervened, but now she stands, slowly and ominously, seething with anger. She turns on him.

"That was my kill!" She hisses.

"Kill?" Ethan snaps incredulously as he yanks out his harpoon. (I flinch at the awful sound). "You weren't killing her, you were _playing_ with her."

Seela shrugs.

"So what? It's all part of the Games."

"She's a little girl!" Ethan growls, the harpoon clutched so tightly in his hands, his knuckles are white.

"_Was_." Seela reminds him nastily. "_Was_ a little girl. Now she's just a body." She even has the gall to kick back at the poor little thing behind her. I think Ethan's about to explode, his face has gone so red, but I can't let him. Seela is awful, disgusting and sadistic but unless _we_ want a similar fate to Mia's, we can't provoke her – not yet anyhow.

"You, you...!" Ethan stutters, taking a step towards Seela, so furious he can barely speak. Her hand moves automatically towards the sabre at her belt, but I step in between them, a warning hand on Ethan's chest. I think briefly of Mags telling me that Ethan's staunch belief in never backing down would cause problems in the area. I hadn't realised it would be so soon.

"Ethan, stop it." I tell him, feeling awful, but knowing that, unless we want a full scale Career battle on our hands, I have to smooth this over. "It doesn't matter, not anymore. She's dead now and that's the end of it." I glance at Seela. "For the both of you."

I half expect Seela to cut me in half for daring to take charge, but am saved by Ash, who has up till now remained silent.

"Cool it, Seela." He says, casually inspecting the sharpness of his sword. "There are plenty more tributes left for you to have your fun with."

Feeling a little ill but mostly grateful for this intervention, I nod.

"You can do what you like, Seela." I say. "I'm sure Ethan just wanted to end the bloodbath so we can look over the supplies..." I turn to him, my voice rising a little desperately. "Right, Ethan?"

He's still seething, his chest rising and falling too fast under my hand, but I stare meaningfully up at him, trying to convey just through my eyes how we can't fight with them yet, how we need the Careers to stay together, how if he and Seela fight, the others will have to take sides and frankly, I'm not sure how many will choose ours. It takes him a few seconds, but then I see him realise all of these things and let out a little breath.

His muscles relax beneath my fingers and he takes a step away.

"I'm sorry." He says stiffly to Seela. "I won't interfere in your kills again."

She smirks – vaguely placated, maybe even a little smug that Ethan had to cave – but then glances around her, frowning.

"Not much of a bloodbath, was it?" She says, sounding disappointed. I look around too and spot only four bodies. Almost immediately, I feel bad for thinking 'only'.

"Four." Preese says seriously. "That's unusually low."

I see Ash's eyes narrow.

"Did none of you _do_ anything?" He asks irritably.

"You only killed one." Jasmine points out. I'd been pretty much thinking the same thing, but being the coward that I am, hadn't said it out loud.

"There wasn't anyone to kill!" To say Ash isn't very happy about this is an understatement. "Not near me, anyway."

"I think most of the others ran straight away." I say, determined to peacemake. "I guess we're pretty intimidating."

It was a mistake to speak, I realise, since it draws Ash's attention to me.

"What about you, Cresta?" He scowls. "Did you do anything useful?"

I swallow. What do I say to _that_?

"Yeah." Fortunately, Reuben jumps in. "She helped me take out the boy from 6."

"Oh." Ash seems to run out of steam. "Right."

There is a silence, in which I cast a grateful look in Reuben's direction.

"Let's clear out." Ethan says suddenly. "Let them take the bodies and then we can come back and sort through the supplies."

"That sounds like a plan." Jasmine says brightly.

As we move towards the forest, the cannons begin to fire.

Four cannons... The other tributes will hear them around the arena and they'll know the extraordinarily low death toll. It's almost embarrassing, actually, in a weird, twisted kind of way. After all, we've been bigged up in the Capitol as the Great Career Pack – the biggest in years, made up of very talented people, a good mix of skills... etc etc – and at the most opportune time, the only time when everyone's together, we've only managed to remove four tributes from the playing fields. I can tell Ash is still angry with us all... and himself, probably.

Still, four down, only nineteen left to go, a voice that sounds remarkably like Violet's breezes inside my head.

_You're a monster for thinking that,_ I tell myself miserably as, from the edge of the clearing, we watch the hovercrafts take away the first bodies._ A real monster._

* * *

_..._

* * *

_Oh gosh, was that too much? I'm sorry to get into the blood so quickly but I needed some friction in the Career Pack and well, Seela's a piece of work, isn't she?... Mmm not entirely happy with this chapter, might edit, what do you think? _

_But anyway, thanks for reading as always, please review x_


	15. Boys are Just Jerks

_Another chapter for you :) No gore in this one I'm afraid - I'll give you a break._

_Thank you for all the feedback, guys, I really appreciate it. Keep the reviews coming, I love to hear what you think! Thanks again and enjoy XD_

* * *

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN - BOYS ARE JUST JERKS**

* * *

By the time we've picked over the supplies in the cornucopia and filled our rucksacks to the brims, it's nearing sunset. We each have a sleeping bag, our weapon of choice (plus a few extra "useful" knives), plenty of food and water, basic medical supplies and even extra pieces of clothing to help keep us warm. None of us will starve, freeze to death, die of thirst or even infection. The only things we have to fear are the other tributes... and each other.

But at the moment, our alliance is strong, the tension from earlier soon disappearing as we squabble mildly over who gets which rucksack. I end up with an enormous blue backpack that no one else wanted because it's so flipping bright, I'll be spotted from miles away.

Ethan sees my pout.

"We'll cover it in mud tomorrow." He tells me. "Once it's dark no one will be able to see us anyway."

I concede with a sigh, swinging it over my shoulders and tightening the straps. On the bright side, my backpack is so huge it protects me from the back of my neck all the way down to the tops of my legs, with canvas so thickly padded, I won't have to worry about a knife in the back. I hadn't seen Sneaky Eyes during the bloodbath, but that doesn't mean he didn't manage to pick up a few knives (after all, I did nickname him Sneaky Eyes for a reason) and that means he could be out and hunting.

Like we're going to be once the sun's gone down.

"Hey Cresta." Ash gives me a sharp nudge. "It's about to get dark. Get up that tree and scout out the arena." I roll my eyes but can't be bothered to object. I'm the lightest here anyway (apart from Jasmine but she's never climbed a tree in her whole life) and can probably get high enough to get a good view of the arena.

I pick a good tree and after struggling from the clutches of my huge rucksack, climb up to the top branches.

"It's about ten miles wide," I call down from my vantage point. "And it's circular. We're at the centre."

"Any water?" Ash asks.

My eyes shift automatically eastwards, towards the dam.

"Yeah." An enormous waterfall gushes from the huge smooth stone wall, forming a wide river at the bottom. I follow it with my eyes to see it split around half a mile inwards from the dam. "Two rivers." I continue. "One heading South West, the other North West."

"Any high points?" Reuben calls up at me.

I scan the whole arena.

"Not really. There are a few slopes and ditches here and there and a lot of rocks, especially near the rivers."

"Alright." Seela says. "You can come down now."

"Well thank you, your highness." I mutter testily as I begin my descent. When I'm back on the ground, Ethan hands me back my rucksack. He's about to say something when Ash speaks again.

"Right, let's eat and then once it's been dark a little while, we'll start hunting."

_Hunting_.

I swallow hard. It was awful enough watching people die during the heated moments of the bloodbath but it was absolutely _horrific_ watching what Seela did to little Mia. I dread to think what she has planned for the unfortunate tributes we'll come across tonight. I also know that if she drags it out too long, I might have to physically hold Ethan back to stop him from intervening.

As we all sit down to eat some of the food that won't keep very long – bread, a bit of meat – I sneak a glance at him. He hasn't really spoken since his confrontation with Seela and as a result, Ash has established himself as group leader without any competition. He's taken to telling us what we're going to do and although he's not secure enough in his position to order Ethan or Reuben around (and well, no one wants to try and order _Seela_ around), he seems to have no problem rattling off orders at Preese and Jasmine and me. I know he views me as a weaker member of the group and that bugs me. Because if he wasn't prepared, I could _so_ pin him to a tree.

But then, as Jasmine so rightly told me, being underestimated is the _perfect_ weapon.

The sun goes down slowly and then it's suddenly really really dark. No moon, no stars – not even one. Not like back home, when there's so many the sky looks like thousands of water droplets on a spider's web. I guess the darkness makes it more difficult for us.

We all pull out our torches. Ash's is the largest and the most powerful, _obviously_.

We listen to the anthem and watch as the faces of the four dead tributes are shown in the sky (I see Ethan look away when Mia's face, blown up to gigantic proportions, appears above us; her gaze somehow seeming both frightened and accusing at the same time).

And then the images are gone and the arena is dark once more. Flicking on his torch, Ash stands and rakes a hand through his mass of curly hair, a cruel smirk settling on his lips.

When he speaks, his voice is ominously eager.

"Time to hunt..."

* * *

_..._

* * *

"You alright?" I ask Ethan quietly.

We've been hiking through the forest for nearly an hour now – eastwards, towards the dam – and we're searching for any kind of tracks. Ash and Seela are leading the Pack, of course, closely followed by Preese and then Jasmine and Reuben (He's remarkably tolerant of her permanent perkiness). Me and Ethan are bringing up the rear, walking next to each other when we can and single file when the trees and bushes get too close together. The forest is pretty dense in places, which I guess is good for me and my bright blue backpack, although actually it's so dark I can barely see Reuben who is only a few metres ahead of us. At least we have torches.

Ethan's eyes – luminous in the torch light – flicker towards mine.

"Yes."

It's the first time he's spoken since the _Seela_ _incident _and his voice is still tight. Although I'm still sad about Mia and disgusted by Seela's behaviour, I suddenly find myself inexplicably irritated with him.

"You better snap out of this." I hiss. His eyebrows raise.

"What?"

"You're being pathetic." I say angrily – although still quietly so none of the others can hear. "You're going to get yourself killed if you mope about after every death."

"She was a little girl." He replies, echoing his words from earlier. I fight the wince. He'll be blaming the Capitol next and then the Gamemakers will probably send some kind of mutt to shut him up.

"I know that, but she had to die if we want to win this."

"We?" This time just one of his eyebrows quirks.

"You. Me." I snap. "One of us, whatever."

"Fine." He concedes. "So she had to die. But it could have been quick. Seela didn't have to hurt her."

"No."

"It was murd..."

"No." I cut him off sharply. The Capitol don't let you get away with saying _that word_. "No it wasn't."

He doesn't try to continue his sentence.

"So, what you're saying," He asks after a few minutes of silence. "Is that I should let Seela torture the next kid we come across?"

I hesitate.

"Within reason."

"Within reason?" He repeats.

"Yes."

"What if it's Elenna?"

I frown, pushing down the enormous wave of guilt and nausea at the thought of watching Elenna – the girl who'd saved my life – being slowly sliced to death by a certain blood thirsty Seela.

"So what?"

Ethan shrugs.

"I saw her at the Cornucopia. She saved your life."

"I'm aware of that."

"Well, don't you owe her?"

"No one owes anyone anything in the arena." I say. "I wouldn't kill her if I came across her personally, but I'm in no position to stop Seela or Ash or one of the others from doing it." Ethan lets out an unimpressed grunt and I'm irritated all over again. "_You_ might be noble enough to put others lives ahead of yours, but I don't think I can."

"What happened to Annie the pacifist?" He asks sardonically.

Suddenly furious, I stop and grab his arm, forcing him to turn and look at me. He must know we're being watched and that no one will sponsor someone who doesn't seem willing to kill. Despite Mag's good fortune, pacifism doesn't usually make a victor and sponsors won't back anyone who has no chance at winning.

I don't particularly want to kill anyone but that's not something our sponsors need to know.

"What the hell is your issue?" I whisper fiercely. "This is no time for pacifism and you know it. Besides, I know you'd kill someone to protect yourself, so you can quit being all high and mighty on me."

"I never said I wouldn't kill." He points out. "I just don't agree with torture."

"Well, me neither." I cross my arms. "But we can't interfere with Seela and the others. We need them right now."

"Do we?" Ethan starts walking again.

"Yes!" I follow him, trying to keep my voice down. "When we leave the alliance, we'll be the first they track down. We have to make sure we're in a strong position at that point."

"We?" He repeats a little incredulously.

"Fine." I retort. "Me. We'll leave separately."

Ethan shoots me a sidelong glance.

"That's what _Finnick_ wanted anyway."

For some reason, that _really_ gets me.

"I don't appreciate your tone, Ethan." I tell him through clenched teeth. He lets a dry laugh.

"No, you wouldn't."

"What is your _problem_?"

"Nothing." He says with a shrug. "I'm just wondering why you're so defensive about you and Finnick."

"There is no me and Finnick." I scowl.

Ethan lets out a disbelieving snort and then storms ahead, out pacing me with his long legs. Unless I run, I won't be able to catch him up, although, truth be told, I don't really want to. The cheek of him suggesting there was something between me and Finnick! There wasn't and there never will be. Finnick was just being nice to me because he knows I'm going to die in here.

I briefly remember that strange intenseness in his eyes last night, and then him holding me tightly this morning, telling me to stay alive, but I dismiss it with a shake of my head. I'm pretty sure Finnick is very good at faking intensity when he needs to. Maybe he thought his heartfelt pleas and forlorn looks would somehow spur me on and help me win this thing.

Hmph. I think not.

I suddenly want to win just so I can tell Finnick it _wasn't_ because of him. Although come to think of it, I _would_ have won because of him then.

Huh.

But the Capitol audience will love a bit of drama - they'll probably blow Ethan's comments about me and Finnick way out of proportion and have a field day interviewing him. ("But do you _like_ her?" "Is she the _one?")_ I let out a little sigh - oh the embarrassment.

But hey, maybe it'll get us a few sponsors - the Capitol will adore the idea of me winning this to be returned to my beloved.

Ugh.

With a scowl, I stalk after Ethan, my torchlight powerful enough to keep him in my sights. He turns, his face illuminated in the darkness, and casts me a little satisfied smirk, like he knows exactly what he's just done.

"Jerk." I say grumpily to myself, stomping far too loudly through the undergrowth.

But to be completely honest, I'm not entirely sure whether it's him I'm talking about... or Finnick.

* * *

_..._

* * *

_Annie and Finnick... The original star crossed lovers of the Hunger Games. Take that Katniss and Peeta!_

_Let me know what you think of this chapter? Wasn't too boring was it? It's just, well, the arena ain't all gore, you know... Plus, these Games are 'boring' meaning less deaths than usual. Ah well, there are other ways to make it exciting._

_Anyways, thanks for reading :)_


	16. Heavy Hearts

_Thank you to those who have reviewed, I really appreciate it, and I love to hear what you think, guys! Anyway, another chapter for you, enjoy XD_

* * *

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN - HEAVY HEARTS**

* * *

It's not long before Seela spots a blood trail. Someone - apparently injured in the bloodbath - has headed this way, brushing past bushes and scrambling over logs, leaving accidental smears of blood in their wake.

We all switch off our torches.

Like a wolf on a hunt, Seela prowls ahead, disappearing into the night. The rest of us follow close behind, our eyes now a little more used to the darkness. Somehow I end up near the front, just behind Seela, and from here, I'm able to see her excitement increase at every new drop of blood she finds. It's creepy, to say the least.

When we reach a huge pile of rocks, she stops – so suddenly, I have to catch myself to keep from smacking into her (something I don't think she'll appreciate) – and turns to me.

"I can't work out which way the trail leads." She points right. "You go that way and I'll go this way." I give her a brief nod and go to move in the direction she sent me, but she grabs my arm, forcing me to turn back. Her eyes narrow. "Make sure you save them for me." I swallow but nod again, because the message is clear.

Ethan may have taken her kill earlier, but neither of us will get away with it again.

I turn round and head right, moving along the edge of boulders. A glance behind me lets me know that I'm only being followed by Ethan and Reuben, and that the others have gone with Seela. I scan the rocks for blood, hoping desperately that the tribute we're tracking isn't in this direction and that it won't be me who has to detain them in some way until Seela arrives.

Someone gently squeezes my arm from behind and I turn round. His expression grim, Ethan points towards a smear of red across a branch, just to the left of my head. I close my eyes briefly but nod to let him know I've seen it.

We carry on slowly for another minute or so and the rock pile begins to curve to the left. We'll probably meet up with Seela and the others at some point. I'm about to flick on my torch again - to make sure they know it's us and don't attack - when I hear a little snuffle and a rustle of leaves. I motion for the others to stop, my eyes focusing on a particularly thick and thorny bush.

Someone's in there, I know.

Ethan and Reuben hang back as I slip forward, lowering myself to my knees to peer through the branches. Someone has cut out a little hidey hole in the centre of the bush and I can see their dark form, curled up in a little ball underneath the thorns. It's the perfect hiding place, or it would be, if it hadn't been for the blood and the tiny sleepy noise this tribute made a few seconds earlier.

I stay where I am for a few moments, trying to decide whether to wake this kid up and tell them to run, or just sit tight and wait for Seela and Ash to appear from the other direction to take over. Ethan suddenly switches on his torch inside his jacket, creating enough light for us to see each other's faces but not enough to disturb the sleeping tribute in the bush.

I raise my eyebrows a little at him. _What do we do?_

He shrugs. _Don't know._

I turn back to the tribute, chewing my lip anxiously. If I let them go, I'll be seen as weak. If I stay where I am, Seela will be here any minute and that'll be the end of this tribute.

As I watch, the kid in the bush turns their head towards me. From the light of Ethan's torch, I see her face and my heart drops.

_Belle_.

She's curled up in the centre of the bush, a blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Her hand is bloody, wrapped in makeshift bandages and tucked up under her neck. She must have hurt it somehow – maybe defending herself in some way in the bloodbath, maybe from a bad fall – but she obviously only made it this far before she had to succumb to sleep. She was smart enough not to light a fire but apparently hadn't known blood trails were so easy to follow.

I suddenly realise I can't let her die. Not Belle. Finnick was right; I shouldn't have found out her name, I shouldn't have let her teach me things and I shouldn't have befriended her, because now, I'm going to have to help her escape and risk the wrath of Ash and Seela.

"Belle." I whisper. I'd try and shake her, but the branches are too thick and I can't get my arm through. I flick on my torch and shine it in her face. "Belle, wake up."

Her eyes flicker open and she blinks rapidly in the bright light. I see her realise it's not natural light that woke her and her eyes widen, a little gasp of alarm escaping her lips.

"Shhh." I hiss, shifting the torch downwards so she can see it's me, see I'm not someone who'll hurt her, but when she sees my face, she panics even more and like some kind of little tree animal, she scurries backwards and disappears out of the other end of the bush. I let out a small cry of exasperation and scramble to my feet. Belle is a runner, not a fighter and that would be great in this situation if she hadn't freaked and shot off in the opposite direction...

Shot off in the opposite direction, straight into the waiting arms of Ash.

"Gotcha, little one." I hear him say, his tone deceptively gentle. _No, no, no! That wasn't meant to happen!_

I race around the bush, stumbling a little, to find Belle pinned by the throat to a tree, struggling uselessly against the grip of the District 2 killing machine. Her eyes are wide and terrified, but she can't make a sound; Ash is holding her too tightly.

I want to jump on him and smack him round his stupid head until he lets go, I want to scream at him to leave her alone but I can't, because it'll be me pinned to that tree if I say a word against him.

"Well, well, well." Seela smirks, drawing her sabre. The blade flashes in the torchlight and Belle lets out a strangled squeak. "What to do with you, eh 11?"

Ash could snap Belle's neck easily – heck, _Preese_ could probably snap her neck – and get it over and done with in seconds, but they won't, I know they won't.

My expression must betray my thoughts because Ethan suddenly grabs my wrist, pulling me back against him before sliding a surreptitious but strong hand across my hip. His fingers dig firmly into my stomach and I know what he's trying to tell me.

_Don't._

I swallow hard and allow myself to be kept where I am.

"Please." Belle manages to gasp out. "Please don't."

"Don't what?" Seela laughs mockingly. "Don't kill you? 'Cause that's a pretty stupid request, 11."

"N-no-o." Belle struggles to catch her breath underneath Ash's crushing grip. "P-please."

I feel my hands begin to shake and Ethan tightens his grip.

"Ash." Seela looks at her District partner, her eyes dark with blood lust. Ash, who seems to know exactly what Seela wants to do with her helpless victim, pulls Belle from the tree and holds her in front of him. His hand leaves her throat and he grabs her long hair, yanking her head sharply backwards to expose her pale and very vulnerable throat.

Belle stops wriggling and stays still. Her eyes are shut and I know she's resigned to her fate. I, however, am still fighting the urge to scream. I clamp my teeth together because I know that if I start then I won't stop.

The forest is silent and it seems like even the trees are holding their breath; waiting, watching, knowing.

The sabre whistles. The blade glints. The blood splatters...And then it's all over.

Ash lets go of Belle and she falls, hitting the ground.

The cannon fires.

There is a pause and I stand, staring at Seela, open mouthed. I can't believe Belle's dead, I can't believe Seela killed her so quickly.

"Let's move out." Reuben says roughly, turning and marching back the way we came. After a second, Jasmine jogs after him, closely followed by a tired looking Preese. Ash picks up the small backpack Belle apparently managed to retrieve from near the cornucopia and tips it out onto the floor. Seeing nothing of value, he tosses the bag over his shoulder and moves on after the others whilst Seela bends and wipes her blade on the mossy grass beside the body. With a scathing glance at my stricken expression, she stalks past me, following Reuben's torchlight.

I don't move for a second, my eyes fixed on the body and the blood and the slice across a pale throat.

"At least it was fast." Ethan mutters. I manage a nod but I can't find my voice. "Shall I let go of you?" He asks. I'm pretty sure he's all that's keeping me upright at the moment, but I nod again and then brace myself to stand on my own. He releases me slowly, as if he knows I'm unsteady. "You alright?" He asks softly, turning me gently round to face him.

I look up at him.

"She'll be okay now, right?" My voice is plaintive – like a child's – and Ethan nods.

"Yes."

"Good." I say, and then I give my shoulders a little shake – remembering that the sponsors will be watching – and straighten up, holding my chin high. "Come on, then."

No one speaks as we continue heading eastwards again. I guess the others want to keep quiet in case there's another tribute nearby and we scare them off, but I physically _can't_ speak, not around the huge lump that's formed in my throat.

My fault, I think numbly as I stumble after the others, this is _my fault_. They probably wouldn't have found Belle if I hadn't. _I_ frightened her (My heart twists with confusion and shame as I remember her face when she recognised me) and _I_ chased her into the path of a predator.

Although I wasn't holding the blade, her blood is on _my_ hands.

Officially, Belle from District 11 will count as one of Seela's kills, but in my heart – a heart which seems to grow heavier with each hour of these damn Games – I know she was really one of mine.

* * *

_..._

* * *

_Nawww, poor Belle. And poor Annie - I think she has guilt issues._

_Thank you for reading, and please review. Loves xxx_


	17. Nightmares, Rain and Hot Chocolate

_Heyy everyone, how's things? XD A nice long chapter for you tonight, so yeah, hope you enjoy it..._

_PS I apologise in advance... I suck at writing dreams._

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - NIGHTMARES, RAIN AND HOT CHOCOLATE**

* * *

"_P-please. Please don't." Belle is pleading now, tears trickling down her cheeks, but Seela only laughs. Belle tries to back away but the older girl has her cornered. I try to move towards them, to save Belle, but I can't, I can't move at all – It's like I'm stuck in mud. Seela's sabre flashes in the torchlight and Belle's frightened gaze turns towards me. "Please, Annie!" She pleads hysterically but I still can't move and I can't stop Seela from advancing. "Annie! Please help me, Annie!"_

"_I'm sorry!" I cry, tears falling from my own eyes. Seela raises her sabre above the terrified girl and I tug helplessly against the invisible force that's keeping me from moving. "Belle! No!"_

_I feel hands grab my arms._

_I look down and Belle is suddenly knelt at my feet, clawing up at me with desperate fingers, her eyes as dark as an abyss._

"_Annie." She hisses. "Annie."_

"_I'm sorry!" I try to push her away, but she's relentless._

"_Annie, Annie!"_

"_No, Belle," I whisper. "I'm sorry."_

"_Annie," Her voice deepens, becomes disturbingly male. "Annie, wake up!"_

My eyes snap open and I'm lying flat on my back, staring up at a glowing face.

"Annie." Ethan murmurs, his hands still gripping my arms, the shadows of flames flickering across his face. "You were crying."

He's right. My face is damp and when I breathe, I sound all wobbly.

"Oh." I mutter, wiping a hand across my cheek.

"Nightmare?" He asks. I nod.

"Yeah."

His lips press into a thin line.

"Was it Belle?"

A pause.

"Yeah."

"It wasn't your fault, you know."

"I know."

His eyebrows raise.

"You were apologising for it."

I prop myself up on my elbows.

"I was talking?"

"Yeah." He sees my worried look and shakes his head. "No, no one else heard... well," He glances behind him. "Jasmine did, but she gets it, don't worry."

I sit up properly to see Jasmine – who's propped up against a tree the other side of the small camp fire – give me a small understanding nod.

"Oh okay." I rub my eyes tiredly. "Well, thanks for waking me."

He chuckles softly.

"It's your turn to be on watch now, anyway."

"Oh. What time is it?"

"About four. You'll probably be on watch until we all get up now," He pauses and regards me with his head cocked to one side. "Though if you need some more sleep, wake me up and I'll take over."

"Nah, I'll be fine." I toss him a smile as I wriggle out of my sleeping bag and grab my boots. "But thanks, anyway."

He nods once and then retires to his own sleeping bag. Whilst I'm lacing up my boots, Jasmine shuffles over to Reuben and flicks his forehead.

"Oi you." She hisses. "Your turn to watch."

He mumbles something incoherent and swats her away before rolling over and settling back down. She rolls her eyes at me and then reaches over to poke him in the face.

"If you don't wake up, Rube." She whispers menacingly in his ear. "I'll tip a bottle of water over your head."

He stirs again but makes no real move towards getting up.

"Jasmine." I whisper, a little smirk appearing on my lips as I pull my water bottle from the front pocket of my rucksack. "Catch." She holds out her hands and I chuck it across at her. On seeing what I've thrown at her, she casts me a mischievous grin before leaning back over the unsuspecting Reuben.

"Reuben." She croons. "Wakey wakey."

And then she presses the bottle sharply with both hands, spraying a jet of cold water straight into his face. He shoots bolt upright with a snort of surprise and me and Jasmine fall about laughing. But quietly, because I'm guessing Seela is the kind of girl who likes her sleep.

"Wh-what?" Reuben splutters, glaring at the two of us. We're still laughing helplessly but I shake my head, flapping at hand at him.

"Shh!"

Reuben watches us giggling, his arms folded, his face set into a glower.

"I did warn you." Jasmine says sweetly once we've got past most of the giggles, snapping the bottle lid shut and throwing it back at me. Reuben's eyes narrow as he glances between us, but I can tell he's fighting the urge to laugh. He's not Ash, he sees the funny side of things.

He purses his lips in an effort to remain stern.

"What was that for?"

"We were trying to drown you." I tell him and then he does laugh; a low and rich sound that reminds me of the men on the boats backing home.

"Better luck next time, then." He grins, unfolding his huge form from the slightly too small sleeping bag and putting on his boots. When Jasmine suddenly yawns, he glances towards her and then back to me. "My turn to watch, huh?"

"Yep." I nod. "Dawn shift with me."

"Awesome." He rolls up his sleeping bag and shoves it in his backpack. I do the same and then we both move to the other side of the camp site to sit against the trees. Jasmine, who has now unrolled her own sleeping bag and is in the process of burrowing inside, gives us a sleepy wave.

"Night, guys."

"Night." We chorus quietly.

Once she's lying down and asleep, I rummage in my pocket and pull out a small packet of chocolate chip cookies.

I hold one out to Reuben with a grin.

"Biscuit?"

* * *

_..._

* * *

It's surprisingly enjoyable being on watch with Reuben. He tells me about life in District 7 – the sweet pine scent of the endless forests, the crackle of the blazing camp fires, the snug and cosy little log cabins – and I tell him about District 4 – the staggering beauty of the cliffs, the way the sun sparkles on the sea, the fresh smell of salt wherever you go.

I'm well aware we're not supposed to criticise the government in any way and so I leave out little details like the permanent smell of death and rotten carcasses around the fish packing plants, the cramped overcrowded conditions of the District 4 prison and the punishments at the hands of the Peacekeepers if we don't fulfil our weekly fish quotas. I'm pretty certain he's editing his accounts of District 7 too.

Between us we create this quaint idyllic world of laughing wood cutters and jolly fisherman.

The Capitol will _love_ it.

The sun comes up about three hours after we started watch and now able to see, I realise we're about two miles from the dam and the edge of the arena. From what I've been able to tell so far, you can pretty much see the dam from anywhere in the arena, it's so high up and so flipping huge. I wonder briefly if the dam features in the Gamemakers future plans or whether it's just for water control.

"You thirsty?" Reuben asks quietly, interrupting my thoughts. I nod and he passes me a small flask. When I open it, the overwhelming smell of chocolate hits my nose.

"What's this?"

"Hot chocolate. It was at the bottom of my rucksack." He smirks suddenly. "Don't tell any of the others though."

I laugh.

"Well, your secret's safe with me." I take a huge gulp and oh, it tastes _so_ good. Much better than water, and it's _hot_ too. "How is this still warm?" I ask.

"Special flasks. We have then in 7 and they retain heat or something. They're great to keep soup in and stuff when we're out in the forests for a long time."

I frown, screwing up the lid and handing it back to him.

"We could probably do with some of those back in 4. It's pretty hard to heat things up on the old boats most of us have at home." I suddenly realise I'm dangerously close to complaining and continue hastily. "Thanks though, Reuben, that was really good."

He grins and gives me a mock bow.

"Pleasure."

Since the others are still fast asleep and it's still pretty early, we decide not to wake them just yet. I don't mind being on watch though; Reuben's good fun and I'm not exactly eager to get back to my nightmare.

First night in the arena and I'm already waking up a tearful wreck. It's not really victor material, is it?

A chorus of panicked squawking sounds up from the east towards the dam and the forest is suddenly alive with beating wings. Mine and Reuben's heads snap upwards as hundreds of birds take to the skies.

"Scared." I whisper. "They sound scared."

The sound of heavy rain fills my ears and we scramble to our feet, our mouths dropping open as we take in the sight before us.

A huge cloud has formed in the sky and rain is pouring to the ground, barely a half mile eastwards from our camp. But it's no ordinary rain.

"What the hell...?" Reuben murmurs from just behind me.

As it falls, the rain is burning up the trees and bushes and anything in it's path. The foliage is melting into blackened mush, corroding before my very eyes.

_Corroding_.

Acid. It's acid rain. And it's heading straight for us.

I spin round to face Reuben.

"Move, we've got to move. Now!"

He blinks at me.

"What?"

"The rain!" I cry, grabbing my rucksack and swinging it over my shoulders. "It's acidic!" Realisation dawns in his eyes and he snaps into action.

"Get up!" He bellows, racing over to shake Jasmine. "Everyone get up now!"

"What's going on?" Ash mumbles sleepily as he sits up.

"Move!" I yell at him, picking up his rucksack and throwing it at him. "We've got to get out of here."

Luckily Ethan realises what's going on and is soon on his feet, grabbing his backpack, sleeping bag, and both of our weapons.

"Come _on_!" Reuben shouts, dragging Preese to his feet. Preese takes one look behind us and then he's off, closely followed by Seela and Ash.

"The cornucopia!" Preese yells over his shoulder. "We've got to get back to the cornucopia!"

As Ethan and Reuben take off after them, I thrust Jasmine's rucksack into her hand and give her a push.

"Run!"

She looks a bit sleepy and a bit dazed but she obeys me and breaks into a sprint. I waste no time in following her. The rain is closer now; it's louder and I can smell the bitter tang of acid as it permeates the air around us.

The Gamemakers. This is their doing. We're obviously not in the right place, we're obviously not making this _exciting_ enough for them.

I flash through the forest, overtaking Jasmine and yelling for her to hurry over my shoulder. I can just see Ethan up ahead and I hope he knows where he's going. I can't remember the way back to the cornucopia and as Preese rightly realised, that's our only real hope of shelter. As far as I can tell, the acid only affects living matter (although I'm pretty sure it would burn straight through our flimsy jackets) and since the cornucopia is metal, it should be safe. Or at least, I hope so.

I suddenly realise I can't hear the thud of Jasmine's feet anymore. I stop and turn, only to see her on the ground a little further back, trying and failing to struggle to her feet.

"Jasmine!" I yell anxiously. "Come on!"

"My ankle!" She shouts back, her voice high pitched with terror. "I can't move it!"

Just behind her, I see the trees begin to wither and with a sinking heart, I realise I can't leave her. I don't care that if she dies, it'll be one less competitor, I just know that Jasmine is only fourteen and I like her a lot and I just _can't_ let her die.

I take off towards her.

In my head, I imagine Finnick letting out a cry of exasperation. Mags would understand, though, I know she would.

As I near Jasmine's struggling form, the rain reaches her. Even with the pounding of the water and the sizzling of the forest, her screams are painfully loud. I realise I'll have to run into the acid to reach her.

As I sprint towards her, I bend over almost double, and shove my rucksack up to cover my head. I race into the lashing rain and almost immediately, my legs begin to sting – backlash from the droplets hitting the ground.

"Jasmine!" I yell when I reach her. "Get up!" She doesn't respond – just lies there – her arms over her head. I reach out and grab her wrist – grimacing as I feel the rain hit my outstretched arm – dragging her upright. She cries out in pain. "Come on, Jasmine!" I yank her to me, throwing my arm around her waist and pulling her as much as I can underneath my huge rucksack.

The grass begins to burn around us and I can feel the heat beneath my boots.

I start running again, hauling her along with me, hoping to outpace the rain, but it's hard going for the both of us. Her ankle must be bad because she keeps stumbling and I have to tug her upright each time. The rain splashes me across the cheek and I grit my teeth, a little hiss of pain escaping my lips. _Nearly there._

Eventually, we make it ahead of the rain, although I can still hear it chasing after us like some kind of relentless tracker mutt. If we keep at this pace, I think as we race through the forest, we'll make it back to the cornucopia.

But then at the top of a slope, Jasmine falls, probably tripping over a root or just not expecting the ground to curve downwards. She topples forwards, her weight taking me with her and we roll over and over and over, down the incline. I scream as I tumble through the undergrowth, crashing through bushes and narrowly avoiding trees. The ground suddenly levels out and I slide to a halt, landing in tired heap at the bottom of the slope. I lie on my back for a second, bruised, battered and burnt, taking deep breaths.

But then I hear the rain gaining on us and I know that if I don't move _now_, I'm going to die. I flip myself over onto my stomach and am just about to drag myself to my feet, when I notice a pile of rocks lining the bottom of the slope.

Rocks. I think of the rocks back home and how there's usually some kind of hidey-hole somewhere. My eyes scan the boulders and then I see it – a rocky overhang and underneath, a small space, hopefully big enough for me and Jasmine...

My eyes flicker towards her. She hasn't moved since we hit the ground.

"Jasmine!" I scramble to my feet and grab her shoulders. "Jasmine! We have to move!"

She moans but doesn't – or can't – move. My thoughts swirl. Do I leave her? Try and get her to the overhang? Attempt to reach the cornucopia ahead of the rain?

As the rain reaches the top of the slope, I know I don't have long. It's either risk cramming the two of us into the tiny hole or let her die.

Well, I think with determination, I haven't raced through burning acidic rain just to leave her now...

So, my decision made, I wrap my arms around her chest and drag her backwards, across the forest floor towards the rocks. She's crying painfully and I'm obviously hurting her since she tries to wriggle from my grasp.

"Jasmine!" I pant. "Stop it."

When we reach the overhang, I crouch beside her and roll her underneath, shoving her as far back as I can. She moans again, but the rain is now seconds away and I can't afford sympathy – not yet anyhow.

At the last moment, I dive underneath, throwing my arms over my face as the torrential downpour passes overhead. It's deafening as it hits the rocks above us - as loud as a thundering sea storm - and I hear the splashes as the water flows down the overhang and onto the ground beside me. The air is filled with acrid smoke and I hear Jasmine choke in between her sobs. I hold my breath, my hand across my nose and my eyes screwed up tight.

And then the rain is gone.

I hear it get further and further away, and then the forest is silent – eerily silent.

I don't move for a few minutes – catching my breath, moving every limb, finger and toe to check for damage. It's not too bad, I don't think. I mean, I can move everything.

I can almost feel the audience watching with bated breath. I expect they can't see us underneath the rock and I guess my sponsors are wondering if they've just wasted a lot of money. I get the sudden urge to stay here, under the protection of the rocks, where it's safe... away from Seela and Ash and the permanent fear that they might flip at any moment. But the Gamemakers would probably send a mutt after me or something. After all, hiding in the Games makes pretty boring viewing.

Jasmine's whimpers bring me back to reality and I know I'll have to move, even if it's just to check on her. At least the fact that she's making a noise means she's not dead.

I wriggle from underneath the rock onto my hands and knees, but the grass underneath my fingers is still hot and I jerk upwards, leaping clumsily to my feet. The forest around me is blackened and still steaming like it's been burnt by fire instead of water. I look down and realise that the one sleeve of my jacket – on the arm I exposed to the rain to grab Jasmine – has been burnt through. My hand and arm are stinging pretty badly, but when I take a quick look, the burns are only superficial and not at all life threatening.

I realise if it hadn't been for my massive backpack, I'd be looking a lot more like the trees around. I'm suddenly very happy I ended up with the bag that no one wanted; it probably saved me from extensive injury.

Speaking of extensive injuries... I crouch by the rock and peer underneath.

"Jasmine? Jasmine, are you alright?"

Her answering moan isn't promising. I reach under the rock and try to get a firm grip on her without causing too much pain, but the ground underneath the overhang is gravelly and the rock itself is very rough, plus she's really far back and wedged in really tight which is making it _really_ difficult. In an attempt to make her more comfortable, I rummage in my scorched and ripped backpack to find a thick blanket and then fit it underneath the rock to protect Jasmine's weakened body from the heated grass.

Even so, it takes me quite a while to pull her out, and when I do, it's not a pretty sight.

She's still lying on her front, her face pressed into the blanket but I'm too tired from dragging her out to turn her over. Instead, I inspect her back, which seems to have born the brunt of the acid rain attack. Her jacket is burnt through and so is her fleece and top. I carefully peel back the material, wincing as the skin lifts with it, to see her back is red raw; the acid having seared through her flesh, exposing muscle and – at one really awful section at the centre of her spine – bone.

My stomach turns and I'm in real danger of throwing up. I have to close my eyes for a few seconds, and take a few deep steadying breaths. _Breathe_, I tell myself, _it'll be okay... _I wipe a weary hand across my face, not entirely sure what to do. I've never come across acid burns before.

In the end, I find my water bottle and drip water across Jasmine's torn skin. She flinches and mutters something I can't hear.

"You okay?" I ask her gently. She shakes her blonde curls – now quite a bit shorter and blackened at the ends.

"No."

"It'll be fine." I say, trying to sound confident. "Your sponsors might send some medicine..."

"Annie!" Someone bellows, their voice echoing loudly though the silent forest. "Annie!"

"Ethan?" I call back. "Ethan! We're over here!" I hear him crashing through the brittle bushes, and then he appears a little further down.

"Are you alright?" He asks me worriedly as he makes his way towards us.

I nod.

"Yeah."

Ethan looks down at Jasmine, who's gone very quiet.

"She's not... dead, is she?"

She makes an effort to raise her head and give us a smile, but I can tell she's in a lot of pain.

"No." I say. "But her back's pretty bad."

Ethan crouches and inspects the exposed skin. I see him wince a little, but he keeps his voice steady and reassuring.

"We'll get you sorted when we get back to the cornucopia, eh?" He gently strokes her poor burnt hair. "Is it okay if I pick you up?"

She 'Mmm's her consent and then Ethan turns her over and lifts her gently into his arms. She slumps into his chest, tears streaking her grubby face, her jaw clenched tight as she tries to keep the sniffles to a minimum. Ethan murmurs reassurance before looking at me.

"Are you alright to carry the bags?" I nod but he's suddenly frowning.

"What?"

"Your face. It's burnt."

My hand flies to my cheek.

"Badly?"

"No, but it looks a bit sore." His eyes rake over my body, searching for more burns. "Is your arm bad?"

I look down at it and flinch.

"Nah, it's alright." I lie. "Stings a bit though."

He shifts Jasmine's weight and gestures westwards with his head.

"Let's go, then."

As we walk through the destroyed forest, I glance at him.

"I take it you made it to the cornucopia?"

"We didn't have to. We reached the clearing and realised the rain stopped a while back."

"Did you find what it was the Gamemakers wanted us back there for?"

Ethan purses his lips.

"District 11. That guy you nicknamed Sneaky Eyes? He was there, picking over the stuff we left. Ash and Seela went after him."

Well, that makes sense. Out of all the other tributes, he's probably one of the few that could put up a good fight against the Careers.

"Did he get anything?"

"Some tarpaulin, a few knives I think, didn't really see."

"Knives?" I ask dismayed.

"Yeah," He frowns at me. "What's wrong?"

"That's what he got his 9 for." I tell him. "I saw him throw a knife during training... didn't I tell you?"

Ethan shakes his head silently whilst he contemplates this.

"If we're lucky," He says darkly. "He'll take out Ash or Seela so we don't have to."

I nod.

"He's capable of it, I'm sure." I say. As we walk, the forest becomes gradually greener around us. I suddenly realise that in my hurry to get Jasmine, I didn't grab her rucksack. Oh well, I'm beginning to struggle under the heavy weight of the other two backpacks anyway. "How far to the cornucopia?" I ask a little breathlessly.

"About half a mile." He tells me. "You made it quite far with Jasmine, actually."

I let out a groan.

"Half a mile?"

He shoots me a grin.

"Yeah, now get a move on, we're meeting everyone back at the cornucopia."

And with that he strides ahead, carrying Jasmine like she's as light as a feather and leaving me to trudge after him, loaded down like a flipping pack mule.

* * *

_..._

* * *

_Sooo, a bit of peril there for you... Naawww Annie's quite sweet really, isn't she?_

_Anyways, as always, thanks for reading and please review. I love to hear your comments XD_


	18. Some Things are Just Uncalled for

_Heyy everyone, another chapter for you today XD_

_Thanks to those who've reviewed. I like to send all my reviewers a message back, but to those who are anonymous or have the PM feature disabled, an extra thank you to you guys :) Keep reviewing and favouriting and alerting... I adore it._

_Lots of love xx_

_PS I've drawn a little sketch of Annie, Ethan, Jasmine and Reuben during this chapter. It's on deviantart. Links are on my profile._

* * *

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - SOME THINGS ARE JUST UNCALLED FOR**

* * *

It doesn't take long to reach the cornucopia and when we do, Preese flies across the clearing towards us.

"Jasmine!" He cries when he sees her, crumpled and scorched in Ethan's arms. "Oh _hell_, Jasmine!"

"Hey, hey." Ethan's voice is low. "We're gonna keep calm for her, alright?"

Preese subsides with a chew of his lip and a nod, but he hovers anxiously around us as we stride towards the cornucopia. Reuben has already spread out a blanket and sorted through some medical supplies.

Ethan untangles Jasmine from her burnt jacket and fleece and then lies her gently down on the rug, flat on her stomach. She whimpers softly and Preese takes her hand.

Ethan and Reuben lean over Jasmine and inspect her wounds, but I hang back, suddenly feeling very drained. My arm is throbbing badly now and the skin has turned an awful shade of purple, but since Jasmine is collapsed in a heap on the floor, half her back red raw and blistering, I hardly have cause for complaint.

Ethan turns and waves me forward. When I crouch next to him, he puts his lips to my ear.

"It's really bad, Annie." He whispers. "We don't have anything strong enough to help her."

A hiss slips through my teeth.

"Damn."

As I eye Jasmine sadly, a low beeping suddenly sounds above us. We all look up to see a silver parachute drift gently to the ground a couple of metres away.

"_Yes_." Reuben is upon it straight away, twisting the lock and flicking it open. He comes back over to kneel opposite me and Ethan, the other side of Jasmine, pulling out a translucent jar. Of course it's burn cream; there's nothing else it could be.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you." I whisper to Jasmine's mentor as Ethan takes the jar and unscrews it. The ointment is a pale cooling green and as soon as I see it, I'm (very selfishly) desperate to get it on my own burns, but since it's obviously for Jasmine, I bite my lip and let Ethan sort her out first . He applies gently it to her poor back and relief shudders through her body. I'm suddenly very very jealous.

"Um Annie..." Reuben looks up hesitantly, but then my attention is caught by someone smashing through the bushes at the edge of the clearing. In seconds, everyone has a weapon in their hand and Ethan has his harpoon raised, aimed and ready.

Ash storms through the trees, his expression as black as thunder. His sword is clenched tightly in his hand, he strides towards us. Seela slopes after him, looking faintly amused. As he approaches, Ash shoots a venomous scowl at Ethan who hasn't yet lowered his harpoon.

"What the hell are you pointing that thing at?" Ethan shrugs, placing his weapon on the floor beside him.

"We didn't know who it was."

"Yeah well," Seela says. "Who else other than Ash is going to come pounding through the bushes like a herd of flipping elephants?"

Which is true, I guess.

"Did you get 11?" Reuben asks.

"No." Ash snaps angrily. "The coward ran." Very sensible as far as I'm concerned, but I don't say so. "What happened to _her?"_ Ash asks suddenly, seemingly noticing Jasmine for the first time. He doesn't sound particularly worried though, just mildly irritated.

"The rain got her." I tell him.

"And you, I see." Seela says smoothly. I glare at her.

"Just a splash."

"Right." She draws out the sound tauntingly. Her eyes flicker towards Jasmine again and her face twists into something resembling contempt. "We'll have to do something about _her_."

I'm not the only one who notices the ominous tone she's using. Next to me, I feel Ethan tense.

"We have some medicine." Reuben tells her.

"Yeah," Preese pipes up. "Pretty expensive too I'd guess. Our sponsors sent it for her."

"Well, actually," Reuben says awkwardly, glancing towards me. "I think it's from the District 4 sponsors."

"What?" Me and Ethan ask simultaneously. Reuben shrugs.

"There was a note in the 'chute."

My eyebrows furrow a little as he leans over Jasmine to hand me a small piece of paper.

"What? For me?"

He nods and a little confused – I thought this was _Jasmine's_ sponsor gift – I unfold the note.

_Wouldn't want to ruin that pretty face of yours, eh? ~ F_

F.

Finnick. Of course it's Finnick, no one else would send a note like that... My cheeks burn.

Everyone is eyeing me interestedly and I'm sure the cameras are capturing this moment too. What on earth is Finnick playing at? Is he encouraging this... this _thing _between us? Or is he just making the point that he sent the medicine for _me_ and not Jasmine?

"I guess the cream rightfully belongs to you then, Annie." Reuben says slowly. Ethan glances at me and then down at the note.

"What's it say?" He asks. I swallow.

"Nothing."

"Read it out, Cresta." Ash folds his arms expectantly.

"It's not very exciting." I protest weakly.

"Well then," He marches over and snatches it from my hand. "You won't mind _me_ reading it."

When he does so, _out loud_, I duck my head, growing more and more uncomfortable. Ash lets out a snort of disgust and drops the note back into my lap.

"Creep." He hisses, although somehow I don't think it's my honour, he's concerned about here. My doubts are confirmed with his next sentence. "All a bunch of publicity crap."

"It's not." I say sharply and then immediately regret it. I basically just admitted there's something between me and my mentor... But still, if I want sponsors, I can't overturn all of Finnick's hard work. "It's not." I repeat again.

"Mentors don't usually send notes." Ash snaps. "Especially not notes like _that_."

"There isn't any '_like that',"_ I tell him evenly. "You know what Finnick's like. You've heard the rumours."

That gets him. Because he _has_ heard the rumours about Finnick... everyone in the whole of _Panem_ has heard the rumours about Finnick; the endless list of past girlfriends, the flick of the hair and the roguish smile that can charm any woman into bed, the long nights spent here, there and everywhere. And it's all true too. He hardly spends any time in District 4 because he much prefers hanging out in the Capitol with the strangest women you could ever see; old, young, rich (although never poor) he'll take 'em. Tall, short, curvaceous or stick thin, yep he'll have them too. Pale skinned, dark skinned, tanned or even _blue_, the door is wide open.

So really, one flirtatious note isn't at all unlike him.

Ash is forced to concede this and back off, although I can tell he's furious that Finnick thought up this angle and not his own mentor. Though come to think of it, it was all Ethan's idea in the first place.

I sneak a glance towards the man in question and see his eyebrows are raised. My cheeks redden.

"What a nice sponsor gift." He says, his head on one side as he regards me, his voice neutral.

"Mm." I say embarrassedly, folding up the note and shoving it in my jacket pocket.

Ethan holds out the jar.

"Well, then... get to work on that pretty face."

I flush harder.

"No, it's fine. Finish up with Jasmine first."

"I'm just about done." He places the open jar in my lap and then looks up at Preese, who is still staring interestedly at me. "Wanna help me bandage her up?"

After a moment's hesitation, I begin applying the burn cream (Sparingly. Jasmine will need some more later) and I let a little sigh of pleasure. This medicine has the best sensation in the world, I decide. I feel like the tide has come in – cool and refreshing – and washed away all the pain and the badness. Before my very eyes, the more superficial burns on my arms begin to scab over. The deeper ones will take time, although I'm certain I'll make a full recovery.

I suddenly feel a stab of resentment towards the Capitol. These medicines must be in good supply there – although I'm sure my sponsors had to pay through the nose to get it to me here – and I'm sure they have plenty of different creams and pills and potions to cure all types of illness and injury. And yet, there are still people in my District dying from treatable infections... and the funny thing is, we're District 4. We're probably in the top three wealthiest Districts, after 1 and 2. I dread to think what it's like in other Districts less fortunate than us. So many lives all over Panem could be saved and the Capitol just don't give a damn.

"Want me to do your face?" Reuben asks, interrupting my thoughts before they become too angry. I force a smile for him.

"Yes, please."

He comes round to sit next to me.

"Look at me." When I do, he takes my chin and turns my face from side to side. "Hmm." He frowns thoughtfully. "Not too bad."

"Really?"

He grins.

"Really." He dabs cream across my right cheek, all along my cheekbone and across my nose, even along my jaw line. I bite my lip, wondering if both he and Ethan actually lied to me when they told me it's wasn't bad. "There." Reuben announces, tapping my other cheek with his hand. "Good as new."

I narrow my eyes.

"Really?" I ask sceptically.

"Does it really matter what you look like when you'll be dead in a few days?" Seela asks spitefully.

There's a silence and everyone stares open mouthed at her. I feel my face burn up.

"That was uncalled for." Ethan says quietly.

Seela shrugs, tossing her long hair.

"It's true."

"Don't you dare..." Ethan begins angrily, but I cut him off.

"Forget it, Ethan."

He gives me an irritated look but after a fierce glare from me, he subsides without a further word, finishing tying up the bandages around Jasmine's back in silence. Jasmine shifts a little and raises her head. Already her eyes look a tiny bit brighter.

"Right," Ash says imperiously. "We should move on."

"What? Move camp?" Preese questions.

"Yeah..." Ash answer slowly and then a sudden, ominous smirk creeps across his lips. "But not until we've found some other tributes..."

* * *

_..._

* * *

We pack up and move on quite quickly after that, heading westwards. Jasmine said she was feeling a bit better and insisted on walking, albeit very slowly. Luckily, the injury to her ankle wasn't too bad - just a sharp twist. Ethan and I hang back with her, helping her through particularly thick sections of undergrowth and lifting her over any rocks or logs in our path. We try to keep her going as fast as possible, but Ash is getting impatient.

"Come on." He growls over his shoulder for at least the eighth time.

"Give her a break, Ash." Ethan snaps. "She's injured."

Ash stops suddenly and turns.

"She's slowing us down." He says through gritted teeth.

"As I said before, she's _injured_."

"I don't appreciate your attitude, Marborough." Ash scowls.

"And I don't appreciate _your_ attitude towards Jasmine." Ethan retorts. "But it doesn't seem like that's gonna change any time soon."

Ash steps forward, pointing a furious finger in Jasmine's direction.

"If she doesn't hurry the hell up," He hisses. "I swear, I'll slit her throat."

By my side, Jasmine lets out a little whimper and despite the fury I feel towards this stupid arrogant pig headed oaf in front of me, I squeeze her hand reassuringly.

"Fine." Ethan replies evenly. "But don't expect my sympathy when _you're_ injured."

Ash's eyes narrow to slits.

"I wouldn't dream of it." And with that, he whips around and storms ahead. "Get a move on!" He bellows testily over his shoulder.

I clench my fists, feeling unusually angry towards him. I'm not an angry person... Finnick would argue that I'm a _grumpy_ person, but there's no way anyone could accuse me of being quick to anger.

It's just...it's just...this is all so unfair! I suddenly want to shout and shriek and punch something really really hard.

I take a few deep breaths. Being angry is never good. Ethan lets the Games get him angry (justifiably so, but still) and that gets him into problems. I take another few long deep breaths and slowly unclench my fists.

We've all been silent since Ash stalked off - watching him disappear through the trees, closely followed by the rest of our allies - but after a few minutes, Jasmine turns and gives me a small smile.

"Do you think someone should tell him he'll scare away all the other tributes yelling like that?" She asks. I shoot her a grin because well, humour is good, humour means she's feeling better.

"Nah. He'll figure it out for himself soon enough."

We start moving again but Jasmine is still hurt really badly and she's getting weaker by the second. After another ten minutes, she flops on a tree stump, her shoulders slumping.

"Go on without me." She waves her hand dramatically, but I see the weariness, the utter _despair,_ in her eyes.

"No way." I tell her quietly. She lifts her confused gaze to meet mine.

"But Ash..."

"Ash nothing." Ethan cuts her off. "I promise you, Jasmine, neither me nor Annie will let Ash hurt you, okay?"

She nods, her lips quirking upwards a little.

"'Kay."

"We mean it." I say. "We're allies, remember?" She gives me a small smile.

"Yeah."

"Good." Ethan turns round and crouches a little, holding his arms out behind him. "Now who's for a piggyback ride?"

* * *

_..._

* * *

_Oh how I love Ethan! I might just ignore Suzanne Collins and let him survive, and Jasmine and Reuben... heck, even Preese can come along for the ride. Ahaha, I wish... I have solemnly committed to a canon compliant story and it's killing me._

_Anyway, thank you for reading, and please review. __Thank you again! Peace out ;)_


	19. Instincts

_Heyy everyone, hope you're still enjoying this! Thank you to those who have reviewed (you make my day) and also thanks to all my anonymous reviewers whom I can't reply to. Please keep reviewing and favouriting and alerting, I love the feedback and all the lovely things you're saying ;)_

_As always, enjoy x_

* * *

**CHAPTER NINETEEN - INSTINCTS**

* * *

"No," Ethan says, repositioning Preese's hand around the dead fish he's trying – and failing – to gut. "You've got to hold it like that."

We set up camp a little while ago in a small clearing about two hundred metres from one of the rivers. Whilst the others collected firewood, Ethan, Preese and I headed further down river to find a shallower, slower moving section to fish in. We'd succeeded in finding a rocky patch, where the water is no more than waist deep, and full of large fish. We'd originally intended on using our own fish hooks to catch the fish, but after a really long time with no bites, (maybe the Gamemakers had fed them too well) we'd resorted to a more primitive method.

At the moment, I'm in the water skewering any fish slow enough to catch with my spear whilst Ethan and Preese are sitting on the rocks at the edge of the river gutting the fish I'm catching. Well, Preese is _attempting_ to, Ethan is trying to teach him the proper techniques, but the younger boy just can't seem to grasp it.

I guess there's not much call for fish gutters in District 1.

Whilst Ethan is pointing out the best place to put the knife, Preese looks up and catching my eye, pulls a face. I grin back. Ethan suddenly asks me something I don't quite catch, turning his head towards me. I smother the grin and immediately try to look attentive.

"Hm?"

"Got any more fish for us?" He asks again.

"Give me a sec."

I spot a silvery shape heading my way and position my spear. I wait silently, not moving at all, for my unfortunate prey to get close enough and, wait for it, just a little closer _and..._ my spear slams into the water, impaling the fish straight through the head. With a cry of triumph, I lift the massive fish – it must be the length of my _arm_ – from the water and pull it from my spear. Holding my prize safely above the water, I wade to edge and pull myself up onto one of the rocks just below where Ethan and Preese are seated.

"Chuck it here." Ethan reaches down and takes it off me. "Right kiddo," He says to Preese dropping the fish in his lap. "I'll leave this one up to you." When Preese protests, Ethan stands, grabbing his harpoon. "I'm going to help Annie catch us some more."

"What?" I ask as he climbs down the rocks back into the water with me. "Are my catches not good enough for you?"

"Well, I think you could aim bigger." He says teasingly.

I mock glare at him.

"Bet you can't catch a fish bigger than that one."

He smirks.

"Betcha I can."

And we so start hunting again, laughing at each other when we miss and trying to distract each other with splashes of cold water to the face. It's fun, actually, and reminds me a lot of the playful banter between fishermen at home.

"I always thought you were meant to be _good_ at fishing." I call to him when he misses another fish.

"You sent a flippin' tidal wave at me." He points his harpoon accusingly in my direction.

"I didn't!"

"Liar." He grins at me... but then his eyes flicker towards something behind me and the smile slips from his face. "Don't move a muscle." He tells me in a low voice.

I freeze.

"What?" I mouth. He doesn't reply but his eyes are fixed firmly on whatever it is he's spotted. As his gaze shifts to my left, I see something dark and ominous and huge appear in my peripheral vision on the surface of the water.

A colossal crocodile – bigger than any natural creature could be – circles us slowly, almost lazily. Its yellow eyes shift in my direction as it swims behind Ethan and I see sentience there - I see an awareness and a knowledge far greater than any animal should have.

A _muttation,_ I think as a fear like I've never felt before tightens in my chest. Compared to this beast, the acid rain - even Ash and Seela - pale in comparison... Because mutts are inescapable. They're faster and stronger than any normal animal and they're intelligent too. They can sense your actions before you make them and they can _think _for themselves.

"Don't move." Ethan whispers again, his eyes lifting to meet mine. I can tell what he's hoping; That if we don't move, the croc might ignore us and move on.

But I already know it won't matter, because the Gamemakers will have programmed it to choose it's prey and attack. This creature does not have instincts, it has a brain and there's no way on earth that it won't go for at least one of us.

I swallow hard, every muscle tensed so hard it's beginning to hurt. I contemplate just making a run for it.

"Don't." Ethan warns me, apparently realising what I'm thinking.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Preese standing on the embankment, abject terror on his face. But it's alright for him... he hasn't got an enormous monster eyeing him up like he's some kind of delicious meal.

Except, well, from the way this croc is looking at me, I'm not entirely sure I'm its next food source. In fact, I get the distinct impression it'll enjoy killing me; the glint in its eye is disturbingly similar to the expression Seela has when she's on the hunt.

The croc swims around us again and I swear it's getting closer. I feel the waves created by its powerful tail tug at my legs and I have to catch my balance.

The croc smirks.

My heart must be racing at a hundred miles per hour now and I'm dangerously close to losing my nerve.

Suddenly, Preese lets out a cry of terror and then he whirls round, sprinting away into the bushes. The croc's eyes snap in his direction and then it shoots off after him, leaping seamlessly from the water and up the rocks as fast as a bullet. As it soars past me, a huge wave hits me square in the chest and I'm knocked from my feet, pulled underwater to the bottom of the river.

But it's not deep and I'm back above the surface in seconds. There's water in my ears and everything is slightly muffled - the screams, the crashing of bushes, the rush of the river.

Ethan grabs my arm, shouting something at me. It takes a second to focus.

"Come on!" He yells, pushing me through the water towards the bank.

"_Preese_." I cry as he seizes my waist from behind and flings me roughly onto the rocks.

"Move, now." He shoves me upwards, climbing out of the river after me. I force my body into action and scramble up the rocks onto the embankment. Ethan grabs my hand and yanks me back towards the camp - in the opposite direction to Preese. "_Come on_."

"But Preese..." I resist him.

"It's too late." He snaps roughly, using his superior strength to drag me away. "We can't outrun that thing."

"We can't leave him!"

"It's too late!" He yells. "Come _on_!" And then we're sprinting away, ploughing through the bushes and leaping over logs. As I realise I can't hear the screams anymore, a cannon fires.

Pain and fear and panic and loss pounds through my blood.

Ethan pulls me along but it's hard to keep up with him, especially with my sodden clothes. A stitch is starting to tug painfully behind my ribs and my breath is coming in sharp gasps.

Something huge and something heavy crashes through the bushes a little way behind us and panic bubbles in the back of my throat.

"Ethan!" I shriek. "It's coming!"

He grits his teeth in determination and increases his pace. I suddenly spot Reuben through the trees up ahead.

"Reuben!" I scream. "Get up the trees!" We burst into the clearing we're camped in but no one's moved.

"Get up the bloody trees!" Ethan bellows, catching hold of my waist again and throwing me onto the lower branch of a tree. "Climb!" He orders, thrusting me upwards.

I obey, pulling myself up the tree as fast as I can, hearing Ethan follow me. I heave myself onto a higher branch and Ethan throws himself up next to me. Looking across, I see Ash and Seela settle themselves on a high broad branch and in another tree to the right of them, Reuben pulls himself in the crook between two branches, Jasmine over his shoulder.

The croc explodes into the clearing, its eyes finding us in the trees almost immediately. A growl rips through its knife-like teeth.

"What the hell is that?" Ash yells across to us.

"Mutt." Ethan answers as the croc begins to circle the clearing, its furious gaze fixed on us. I have to look away because there's blood smeared across its snout.

Jasmine tugs on Reuben's jacket, asking him something, her voice too weakened for us to hear.

"Where's Preese?" Reuben repeats for her.

Me and Ethan look at each other.

"No!" Jasmine's pained cry just carries.

"I'm sorry, Jasmine." Ethan calls regretfully over to her. "There was nothing we could do."

As Reuben comforts Jasmine, I keep my gaze firmly fixed on the croc. Something's niggling at me, something about the way it's looking up at us...

Its yellow eyes meet mine and it's almost like there's a smugness there.

"Higher." I suddenly say. "We need to get higher."

"What?" Ethan asks. I grab his jacket and try to shove him upwards.

"Higher!" I yell, both to him and the others. "Get higher up!"

Ethan wastes no time obeying, leaping up the trunk onto a branch at least six feet upwards. I glance downwards to see the croc start towards us and the terror is back. I brace my foot on the trunk and boost upwards, but the next branch is too high and I'm not strong enough to pull myself up.

My foot slips.

Ethan grabs my flailing hand as I lose my footing, keeping me from falling into the jaws below. The croc is now directly below my dangling feet. Its teeth glint dangerously in the sunlight and blood trickles from its mouth.

I let out a panicked shriek.

"Annie, don't let go of my hand." Ethan tells me, grasping my hand in both of his.

"I wasn't planning on." I inform him, tightening my grip. He shoots me a pained grin and then starts hauling me upwards. I try to get footing on the trunk, but then Ethan's pulled me high enough to grab his branch with my other hand. The bark slices into my palm and a grunt of pain slips through my lips.

"Nearly there." Ethan's teeth are clenched as he struggles to balance and haul me upwards at the same time. I feel the croc's eyes on me, assessing my position, assessing how high it might have to jump to reach me. But then, with one final, almighty heave, Ethan drags me bodily onto the branch and my legs swing clear... just as the croc rears onto his back legs and snaps up at me. Its teeth miss my feet by mere inches.

As the croc falls back to the ground with a frustrated growl, Ethan yanks me further onto the branch, practically on top of him. He's panting slightly and so am I.

"You scared me." He says. I wipe a bloody hand across my face and wriggle into a more comfortable position along the side of him. He wraps an arm around my waist to keep me firmly on that branch.

I smile tiredly.

"I scared me too."

I look across the clearing to see the others have all thankfully heeded my warning and moved up higher too. Reuben eyes me anxiously.

"You alright?" He calls.

"Yeah, thanks." I give him another smile. "I'm fine."

The croc suddenly rears up again and when it finds it can't reach us, it lets out a roar of fury. I press my back against the trunk with a shudder at the awful sound.

"You sure you're okay?" Ethan asks.

"Yeah, I think so." I pause and eye the horrible creature that's now pacing angrily around the clearing below us. "How long do you think we'll be stuck up here?"

Ethan purses his lips thoughtfully.

"Not long I'd guess, now that there's no chance the croc can reach us. The audience will get bored." I settle into his shoulder and he takes my hand, giving it a squeeze. "Besides," He adds softly. "The croc's already killed one of us."

I nod sombrely.

"Poor Preese. I hope it was quick."

Ethan is silent for a moment and when he finally speaks, his voice is rough.

"He wasn't a bad kid," He says. "Not a bad kid at all."

* * *

_..._

* * *

_Soo, first Career death and I quite liked Preese too, but it had to happen. I think I agree with Annie though, I hope it was quick :( __Anyway, thank you for reading, I hope you're not too depressed because it's going to get worse than this... Just a warning ;) _

_Please review and let me know what you think, thank you... au revoir x_


	20. Little Purple Flowers

_Right, I'm warning you now... this chapter was hard for me to write. That's all I'm gonna say._

_Enjoy xx_

* * *

**CHAPTER TWENTY - LITTLE PURPLE FLOWERS**

* * *

It's late afternoon by the time the croc is recalled by the Gamemakers. Ash has spent the last hour or so amusing himself by throwing sticks at the raging beast and it has eventually exhausted itself trying to get at him.

The croc lets out a low rumble of irritation and then stalks off, disappearing through the thick bushes.

We wait silently for a few minutes.

"Is it gone?" I ask Ethan eventually. His eyes search the greenery.

"I don't know."

"What if it's waiting for us to come down?"

He doesn't answer.

"Oi!" Ash yells at us. "Someone climb down and check it's gone."

Me and Ethan exchange glances.

"Cresta!" Ash bellows again. "You're the best climber. Go down and check it's gone!"

Jerk.

"Why don't we just wait a little while?" I call back.

Ash scowls across the clearing at me, but doesn't push the issue. We wait about fifteen minutes before he gets impatient.

"Cresta!"

I heave a sigh but prepare to climb down the tree. Ethan grabs my arm.

"I'll go down if you want."

"Nah, it's fine." I begin edging backwards down the trunk. I look up at Ethan. "Be my eyes, okay?" He nods once.

I climb slowly and as quietly as I can down the tree. As soon as my feet touch the ground I'm on high alert, my eyes darting around the clearing, searching for the croc. I'm half expecting it to leap from the bushes at any second, but the forest remains silent.

I pick up my spear from where I dropped it at the foot of the tree and pace the clearing. I actually can't believe I'm doing this. Ash is _such_ a coward.

A sudden furious roar explodes from behind me and with a squeak of alarm, I whirl round, my spear already raised...

... Only to see a black feathered bird sitting on a lower branch of a tree on the other side of the clearing. It cocks its head, eyeing me interestedly and then opens its mouth. A scarily realistic roar echoes around the clearing.

"Huh." I say, dropping my arm and straightening up. The bird's eyes gleam wickedly and that awful roar sounds again. "Very funny." I tell it.

"Very funny." It replies in my voice.

It's a jabberjay, of course. Nasty little things; they can repeat any noise, any voice, any words and were originally used as a surveillance technique back in the rebellion. Now though, the Gamemakers just stick them in the arena to have a bit of fun with the tributes.

The jabberjay in front of me open its mouth and I expect to hear the crocodile again... but instead, a scream that sounds horribly familiar pierces the air.

Preese.

I flinch.

"Stop it."

"Stop it." The jabberjay mimics and then it starts screaming in Preese's voice again. I clap my hands over my ears, screwing my eyes up tight. _Shut up shut up shut up._

And then there's a dull thud and the screams stop. I open my eyes to see the jabberjay on the floor, a small knife in it's chest.

"Stupid bird." Ethan scowls, crouching by its corpse to retrieve his knife. He glances towards me. "You okay?

I nod and realise my teeth are clenched so tightly it hurts. I force myself to relax.

"One good thing, though." Reuben appears next to me, Jasmine already on his back, her arms around his neck. Her eyes are rimmed red. "The fact that the bird was down here," Reuben continues. "Means it felt safe. The croc must have gone."

"Even so," Ethan stands. "We should move camp." He looks up and squints through the branches. "I'd say we've got about three hours of daylight..."

"Well then," Seela swings her backpack over her shoulder and regards us expectantly. "We'd best get moving."

* * *

_..._

* * *

We decide to move further down river, tracing along the edge, until we can find a good place to cross. Ash and Seela want to hunt more tributes and think they've all moved towards the edge of the arena whilst the rest of us just want to get as far away from that clearing as possible.

Preese's screams keep replaying in my mind like a broken record.

Jasmine, too, is looking decidedly haunted. She tried to walk for a little while but she doesn't seem to be getting any better and now she's perched on Ethan's back, her head resting in the crook of his neck. I think she may still be crying.

We walk for nearly half an hour until the river widens out, becoming shallower, huge piles of rocks forming a nearly unbreakable pathway across.

"We'll cross here." Ash calls over his shoulder as he starts down the steep embankment to the gravelly edge of the river.

As far as I'm concerned, it's not too difficult to get across the river – the rocks are only a little damp and the water that does run across the lower points is only knee deep.

Even with Jasmine on his back, Ethan speeds ahead, leaping over the rocks like a mountain goat. He shoots a smirk in my direction.

"Race ya."

I narrow my eyes at him.

"You're on."

And then we're dashing across the rocks, him just a little ahead of me. Jasmine squeaks as Ethan leaps into the water and then swings himself back up onto the rocks. The rock formations are pretty similar to the rock pools back home where both of us used to play when we were kids and we tackle them with ease, naturally knowing exactly where to put our feet and where to risk a jump.

When we reach the opposite bank, we're both panting and laughing and I feel just a little bit better.

Ethan puts Jasmine down on the grass at the top of the embankment and then collapses beside her. I sit on her opposite side.

"That was _fun_!" I say, flopping back on the grass and stretching my arms above my head. Ethan looks down at me from behind Jasmine.

"Your face looks a little better." He remarks. My hand moves to touch my cheek and I wince. The skin is rough and still burns under the heat of my fingers. Still, it's no where near as painful as my arm.

"Feels a little better." I say brightly, closing my eyes and sinking into the springy grass beneath me.

"I'll help you put some more cream on it later." Ethan offers and I smile tiredly.

"Thanks."

A shadow falls over my face and I crack open an eye to squint up at Reuben.

"You're blocking my sun." I tell him. He grins and plonks himself down next to me.

"How do you feel?" He asks Jasmine. She shrugs sadly and then winces.

"Alright."

I sit up to say something reassuring but am distracted by Ash struggling across the rocks. Seela seems to be having trouble too.

"You okay, Ash?" Ethan calls with a little smirk. Ash casts a venomous glare in his direction but doesn't deign to answer. When Ethan chuckles, I prod him with the blunt end of my spear.

"Quit it." I say warningly, although my lips are twitching too.

The Great and Almighty District 2s vanquished by a pile of rocks...

Beside me, Reuben is laughing and when I nudge him too, he tugs playfully on the end of my braid.

"Calm down, Annie." He teases. "It's nice to see Ash struggle for once."

Eventually though, Ash and Seela make it across the river and they climb up the embankment towards us.

"Let's get moving." Ash nudges Reuben with his foot.

"Aw come on, man." Reuben groans. "Give us a break."

"You've had a break." He replies ruthlessly. "Now let's get moving."

With a lot of eye rolling and sighing, we stand and reassemble. Reuben pulls Jasmine onto his back and I offer to take his rucksack.

"If he insists on carrying _her_," Seela interrupts. "Then he can't expect any of us to carry his stuff for him."

"Well," I say, picking up Reuben's rucksack from by his feet. "We can't just leave her."

"We could."

"Well, I _won't_." I retort. "Now, are we moving on or what?"

* * *

_..._

* * *

I lean my head back against the tree trunk, letting my eyes drift shut, the light of the fire dancing on the insides of my eyelids. I'm on first watch tonight and unfortunately, that means I'm on watch with Ash.

"Oi Cresta." He hisses from across the fire. "Stay awake."

I open one eye.

"I am awake."

"You don't look it."

I don't answer him, but I open both eyes and cross my arms, giving him a look that clearly says _happy now? _He lets out a little grunt and then settles back against his tree, lapsing into silence again.

Only two faces showed in the sky earlier tonight: Belle and Preese. Strange, really that it was less than twenty four hours ago that Belle died. Feels like a lifetime.

As I watched their young faces flicker and fade in the sky, my heart began to ache. Mia, Belle, Preese... each one of their deaths is like a little weight in my chest.

Jasmine suddenly moans painfully in her sleep. I shift onto my knees to shuffle over and check her forehead. She'd started burning up as we'd set up camp so I'd tucked her in and told her to sleep. I think I told her that everything will be okay and that makes my heart hurt even more. Because, chances are, it won't. Ethan had checked her back just before I'd put her to bed and from what he told me, it's not looking good, even _with_ that medicine.

He told me she probably won't make it through the night.

Ash watches as I pull Jasmine's sleeping bag tighter around her in an attempt to break the fever.

"Why are you even doing that?" He asks suddenly. I contemplate him for a second, scooting backwards to sit against the tree again.

"Because I care." I say eventually. He frowns, apparently puzzled.

"But _why_?"

"Because she's just a kid, Ash." I say tiredly. "And I don't want her to die."

"You do know how this works, don't you?" He is incredulous. "Only one of us comes out."

I glare at him.

"I am aware, yes."

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Well, if _you_ want to win, then Jasmine has to die."

"I _know_ that." I snap. His eyebrows lower.

"Why won't you let me kill her then?"

"Because you _enjoy_ killing. You'd drag it out."

"I wouldn't." He protests, offended.

I give him my best unconvinced look.

"Yeah. Right."

"No, seriously, Cresta, I mean it. Yeah, I enjoy killing... it's that _adrenaline_ rush, you know?" When my expression doesn't alter, he rolls his eyes. "Never mind. What I mean is, okay, I like killing, it's the way I was brought up, but I'm not a _monster_. I do have some morals." I snort and he fixes me with a glare. "Killing Jasmine would be an act of mercy, not enjoyment. I'd do it to end her pain, I swear."

"Well there's no need to worry about that," I tell him. "Because you're not getting anywhere _near_ her."

He lets out a noise of irritation.

"You couldn't stop me."

"Ethan could." I point out. Ash purses his lips.

"True." He concedes. "Ethan's good. Not as good as me, but still, a worthy opponent."

"How generous of you." I say sarcastically. He pulls at face at me and for a second, he's just a teenage boy who wants to survive in an awful awful world...

But then his eyes harden and the killing machine that is Ash from District 2 returns.

"Whatever, Cresta." He waves his hand dismissively and just like that, our conversation is over. Just as well, because it's that moment that Jasmine chooses to wake up, crying out my name.

"It's alright, Jasmine," I crawl over to her again. "I'm here."

"It hurts." She whimpers.

"I know." I whisper. "I know."

"Here." Ash says suddenly. When I look up, he chucks a small bottle of pills in my direction. I look at them and I realise they're morphine in tablet form.

Pain killers... or, in the right amount, killers full stop.

I meet his eyes and he shrugs. I shake my head once and tuck the bottle into my pocket.

"Come and sit with me." I tell Jasmine.

I end up leaning back against my tree, her head in my lap. Her forehead is still very hot against my hands.

"It's not going to get better, is it?" Jasmine asks after a few minutes of silence. I hesitate, but decide not to lie to her. She's not stupid, she knows she's dying. My throat tightens.

"Probably not." I say thickly.

"I thought so." She mumbles. "I feel so tired."

"You should sleep."

There is a pause and then a sniffle.

"I don't think I'll wake up if I do."

"Maybe that's a good thing." Ash says from the other side of the fire.

Yeah, I think, for _us. _Jerk.

"Maybe." Jasmine echoes.

"You don't mean that." I say, stroking her hair.

"I think I might." She whispers. "It's getting worse, Annie."

She is silent for another few minutes whilst I entwine my fingers gently in her hair, my other hand rubbing her shoulders reassuringly. She reaches out and catches my wrist, her thumbs brushing my bracelet reverently.

"What does this mean?" She asks softly.

"Lots of things." I tell her. "Love. Unity. Eternity."

"Who gave it to you?"

I pause.

"Um... Finnick did."

She makes a noise that sounds like a laugh, although it's a little pained.

"And you said you didn't like him."

"I never said that, _specifically_."

Jasmine makes the effort to turn her head and look at me.

"You do, though, don't you?"

I'm aware of Ash's eyes on me (and the whole of Panem's come to think of it) and start to blush.

"Of course not." I say eventually. Jasmine smiles sleepily.

"Liar."

Another few minutes pass without any of us speaking another word.

Will you plait my hair?" Jasmine asks suddenly. "Like yours? Yours is so pretty."

And so I plait her hair - which is a little straggly still from the acid rain – into a classic District 4 fish tail. Once I've finished, I pluck a little purple flower from the ground just near my legs and put it behind her ear.

"There." I say. "You look beautiful."

"Really?" She asks.

"Yes." I say. "Really."

She reaches up a shaky hand to pat my arm and I hear her breathing slow. She's not asleep, though; she's still whimpering.

I look up at Ash and his eyes move pointedly to my jacket pocket.

I'm torn. Do I let her die naturally in a lot of pain? Or do I give her the morphine and send her out in a haze of drugged up euphoria? The decision seems so easy when I put it like that, but it's not, it's not at all and I realise my hands are shaking. I consider waking Ethan up and seeing what he thinks, but then a little high pitched moan of complete and utter agony brings tears to my eyes.

"Oh Jasmine." I whisper, stroking her back. "What do I do?"

"It hurts, Annie." Her voice cracks and her fingers clench into my mine. "It hurts so much."

"I know." I reply softly. "I know, Jasmine."

A little sob slips through her lips.

"I want to go home, Annie. I want my Mom."

And that does it.

Tears blurring my vision, I empty seven tablets into my palm.

"Eight." Ash says quietly. I nod, blinking hard as the tears spill down my cheeks.

"Jasmine, I'm sorry." I whisper in her ear. "But I need you to take these."

"What are they?" She asks, letting me put two in her mouth.

"Morphine." I tell her. "They'll make it stop."

She turns her head again - slowly, painfully - to look up at me. Her eyes are wet and sad and tired and the despair in them makes me want to curl up in a ball and cry and cry.

"All of it?" She asks, her voice barely audible. I nod.

"All of it."

She blinks up at me for a few moments and then closes her eyes.

"Okay."

I help her take the other six tablets and then she opens her eyes once more.

"Thank you." She mutters, her voice growing hoarse with tears. I smile at her.

"That's okay, Jasmine."

A ghost of a smile drifts across her lips.

"I hope you win, Annie." She says and I let out a little tearful laugh.

"Thank you, Jasmine."

And then her eyes flicker shut.

Her lips move and I have to bend close to hear her.

"Sing." She whispers. "Sing me a song from your home."

All I can think of is the lullaby Finnick sang to me and so I start humming it, very softly, very quietly, so as not to wake the others. And then I start singing the words, weaving a dream world of stars and seas and magic, where everything will be just fine.

I carry on humming, right up until the cannon fires and Jasmine's hand goes slack in mine.

The others wake up on hearing the boom in the distance. Ethan sees my stricken face, the guilt in my eyes and then he sees the bottle on the floor next to me.

"She's not hurting anymore." He says sadly and I nearly burst into tears, because he understands, because he doesn't blame me, because I really really really want that to be true.

And then Reuben picks her up, ever so gently – as if she's just asleep and he might wake her – and then he carries her away, far enough so the hovercraft will be able to pick her up.

As he disappears into the bushes, I see Jasmine's small head loll over his huge arm, the little purple flower still fixed firmly in her poor blackened curls.

* * *

_..._

* * *

_OH. MY. LIFE. _

_This actually pained me to write (that's how into these characters I am). Oh man, sad stuff. And what about Ash? He has a heart! Sort of. Maybe half of one. Ah well, his niceness won't last loooooong ;)_

_Thank you for reading, guys, I hope I haven't depressed you too much. Don't forget to review!_

_PS I've just realised, Annie's first kill, eh? Does it count? What do you think?_


	21. The Things to Come

_First off, I must apologise for the delay in posting this... I've had such a manic weekend! ahh well, it's up now XD_

_Another reason why this took so long is because I've been working on the partner story to this - the Finnick's POV one - so some of that will be posted shortly - look out for it! Still deciding on a name... let me know if you've got any more ideas ;)_

_Anyways, as always, enjoy xx_

_EDIT: I've added a little extra scene here and slightly changed the river scene._

* * *

**CHAPTER TWENTY ONE - THE THINGS TO COME**

* * *

"Oi, Cresta." A foot thuds into my side. "Time to get moving."

I lift my head from the warmth of my sleeping bag, feeling fuzzy headed and achy, to see Ash glaring down at me.

"What?" I mumble, wiping a hand across my face.

"Time to get moving." He repeats slowly and deliberately like I'm stupid. Maybe I am. I'm feeling all confused and detached. When I don't move, he kicks me again. "Get up!"

"Leave it, Ash." I hear Ethan interrupt as I slowly start to sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Ash shoots him a scowl.

"We want to get moving."

"Yeah and we will... Just cut her some slack, okay?"

What _is_ he talking about? What happened? I think backwards through the fuzziness...

And then I remember.

Jasmine, her sobs, the morphine, little purple flowers. I have to take a deep breath because I suddenly feel like I'm drowning.

"Annie." Ethan crouches beside me. "Are you alright?"

I nod.

"Yeah." When I speak, my voice is croaky and my throat hurts. Not surprising really since I'd cried most of the night after Jasmine had died. After I'd killed her.

I must have cried myself to sleep too, although it doesn't seem to have been a very restful one. I'm absolutely exhausted and want nothing more than to curl up in my sleeping bag and sleep forever.

But apparently Ash won't let me do that.

"Get up." He growls impatiently. "Seela's found a trail."

* * *

_..._

* * *

It's not a blood trail, this time; just a faint track - a footprint here, a broken twig there – through the dense forest heading in a round about route back towards the river. We've been hunting for nearly an hour without coming across _any_ tributes.

I don't understand. There are still seventeen of us in this arena and it's not one of the biggest arenas the Gamemakers have designed, but we haven't really seen anyone – except for Belle and briefly, Sneaky Eyes. Everyone else must be keeping as far away from us Careers as possible.

Can't say I blame them really, I'd be doing the same.

"How are you feeling?" Ethan appears at my side, looking concerned. I shove my hands deep in my pockets, glancing sadly towards him.

"I'm okay."

"You sure?" He ducks under a low lying branch.

"Yeah. I guess so."

And then it suddenly hits me that I gave Jasmine those pills and it's my fault she's dead, and it doesn't matter that she chose to take them, because she was hurting and scared and couldn't have been thinking straight.

"I killed her." I say, my hands lifting to cover my face. "Oh god. I killed her." Tears blur my vision. "I _killed_ her."

"Oh Annie." Ethan says softly. "Annie, don't."

"I _killed_ her." I whisper again.

"And I killed Mia." He says. "And the boy from 12. It's just what happens here."

Something catches in my throat and I can't talk again. We reach a particularly dense patch and Ethan falls behind me. I stare ahead of me, feeling my chest constrict tighter and tighter like there's a snake wrapped around my rib cage.

"Annie?" Ethan asks as the bushes thin a little and he pulls level with me. I rub my hand across my chest forcing myself to _breathe _and shake my head.

"No. No." I wipe at my eyes with the cuff of my jacket. "I'm fine." My voice catches and I cough. "I'm fine."

"You sure?" He leans down a little to look at me. "Because you know it's not your fault. Jasmine agreed to take those pills. It was her choi..." And then I see he's about to walk straight into a branch if he doesn't duck now. My eyes widen.

"Ethan!"

He turns, but he's not quick enough and he walks nose first into the branch with a thud.

"Oof!" He staggers backwards, his hand lifting to his nose. "Oh damn!"

I giggle suddenly and it sounds so wrong, because I'm in the _Games_ and Jasmine is dead and so is Preese and I'm probably going to die soon, but Ethan is rubbing his nose, looking so forlorn that I can't help it. I laugh again.

But then Ethan is grinning back at me and his smile is infectious.

"I'm sorry." I say. "I shouldn't have laughed. You okay?"

"Yeah." He laughs. "I'm fine."

"You sure?" I smile at him through my tears.

"Yeah." He says again. "I'm fine."

* * *

...

* * *

After that, Ethan falls behind me again, apparently satisfied I'm feeling a little better. My good cheer doesn't last very long though and my fast paced, purposed walk slowly becomes a bit of a trudge. Reuben - who has barely spoken since Jasmine's cannon fired - is walking just a little way in front of me and he becomes my focus. I keep my eyes on his backpack, following him through the forest, trying not to think about anything but his huge figure, moving at a steady pace. It's almost hypnotic.

But I'm dreading the moment we find the next tribute. Ash may have shown mercy when it came to Jasmine, but I doubt he'll risk ruining his reputation by doing so again and I'm pretty certain Seela hasn't got a merciful bone in her body.

A low rumble begins below our feet, from deep within the earth. We halt as one, muscles tensed, breathing hitched.

What...?

The ground begins to shake – not much, just a little – and the trees around us shudder and creak. I stagger, thrown off balance by the movement of the earth and the weight of my huge rucksack, but Ethan catches my arm, keeping me steady.

A huge cracking sound resonates around the arena, its echo rolling around the cliffs like a wave.

Nobody moves. Nobody breathes.

And then the world steadies and the forest falls silent as the tremors stop. Nobody moves; it's as if we're all waiting for something bigger, some kind of explosion.

"What was _that_?" Seela asks eventually, turning back to look at us. But then her eyes flicker upwards and she squints a little at something in the distance.

I turn too, following her gaze, and my heart flutters.

"The dam." I whisper, my mouth turning dry.

And then we're all staring at it, our lips parted in silent horror. Because the enormous dam wall mounted in the cliff face at the edge of the arena – the same enormous dam which I'm sure is preventing millions of gallons of water from flowing uncontrollably into the arena – has cracked.

Right up the middle.

It's still _in tact_, but it no longer looks the impenetrable barrier it was.

And it turns out I'm right too. When Ash sends me up a tree to get a better look, (I'm starting to think that whenever I hear "Oi, Cresta", I should just turn tail and run) I see that, not only has the dam cracked, there is a lot more water pouring through. The rivers are wider, deeper and as far as I can tell, faster flowing.

It's not a good sign.

Whilst I'm up the tree, I look around at the towering cliff faces – surrounding us on all sides – and suddenly realise we're, in effect, at the bottom of a huge basin. If that dam breaks (and I wouldn't put it past the Gamemakers) then the arena will fill up like a bath, with all of us trapped inside.

I shimmy back down the tree to tell the others.

"So the dam's letting in more water?" Reuben asks. When I nod, Ash folds his arms.

"Why did they crack it?" He asks. "Couldn't they just adjust the flow or something?"

"It's much more dramatic this way." Ethan says bitterly.

Not to mention ominous, I add silently. Maybe the Gamemakers are warning us. Maybe they're trying to tell us that from now on, they'll step it up a notch and that if we fail to impress, then we'll have to face the consequences.

I'm guessing our Career Pack is very disappointing for the Capitol viewers at the moment. They were expecting great things – blood, gore, death and destruction – and our grand total so far has been _five__, _plus we've lost two of our own, both within twenty four hours of each other.

I don't want to, but maybe it's for the best that we hunt down some more tributes. It might keep the Gamemakers off our backs for a little longer.

"Let's keep moving." I hear myself say in this horribly calm and even voice. "Those tributes aren't going to hunt themselves."

* * *

_..._

* * *

We stand and stare in silence at the rocks we crossed yesterday afternoon, because well, most of them are underwater.

The water has risen nearly up to the top of the embankment and is coursing over and around the rocks, so fast and fierce the river is practically white. The rocks are soaked and slippery, and the route across looks decidedly unstable.

"Do you think we should try further down?" Seela asks a little nervously.

No one answers for a minute. I spot a route across the river, but it'll be tough.

"No." Ethan decides eventually. "We can get across, it'll just be a bit more difficult." He glances between us. "I'll lead. Everyone follow my route exactly."

And so, in single file, we start across the rushing river. Ethan goes first and then Ash. I take to the rocks next, closely followed by Seela and finally, Reuben. Ethan moves slowly across the river, heading upwards onto the jagged rocks stacked high above the water. I follow close behind Ash, my hands slipping slightly on the wet rocks as I push myself over the top.

I turn and give Seela a hand and then we continue slowly across the perilous shelf of rock.

"Everyone managing okay?" Ethan calls over the sound of the raging river. "Annie?"

"Yeah..." I begin, but then Seela lets out a panicked cry and a hand grabs my backpack, knocking me off balance. My words dissolve into a shriek of alarm as my boot slips on the wet rock and I am thrown sidewards.

"Annie!" I hear Reuben yell as I roll down the jagged rock face, the sharp rock scraping my knees and elbows, and then I can't hear him anymore because I've plunged headlong into the freezing cold water of the roaring river. I push up to the surface, but I barely have time to hold my breath before the current catches me and I'm dragged downwards again, tumbling over and over underwater as the water pushes me along. Bubbles swirl wildly around my head as I thrash against the current, trying to find the surface again. But I can't work out which way is up.

And then I smash into something hard and I realise I've hit another rock face. I grasp for a handhold but the rocks are slippery and the current grabs me again, pulling me along the shelf and wedging me tightly between two rocks. I look up to see a glimmer of light and the rush of the surface.

Clinging onto the rocks, I push myself up towards the light, only to be jerked viciously backwards. I squeak in alarm and with a rush of bubbles, lose a fair amount of air. Struggling frantically, I squint through the swirl of the current to see the bottom of my jacket is caught on a jagged rock. I writhe and buck harder, but I can't pull myself free. Panic sets in as I feel the beginnings of pain deep my chest, the pain that means my air is very quickly running out.

But I won't drown. I just won't. I'm district 4 and water is not my enemy.

I sink further into the water, finding the spot where my jacket has caught, and try to work it free. But the water is dark and I can't see very well and my fingers are so so cold and that pain in my chest is swelling...

But then, with one last desperate yank, I feel the jacket tear - yes! - and then I'm free and surging upwards the bubbles.

I surface, gasping with relief but apparently I'm not safe yet, because another strong current surge sends me crashing back into the rocks and pins me there. Water rushes into my eyes, mouth and nose and I choke, unable to breathe. Unable to see wither, I reach up, feeling blindly for a handhold. My fingers find a ridge, but the rock is wet and I can't get a strong enough grip to risk pushing myself up. Beneath the water, I push my boots into the rock shelf, trying to find some kind of shelf, some way to pull myself out of the rushing, icy water.

But I can't. I can't find the energy and my sodden bag is dragging me down and I'm going to die.

I feel my fingers slipping.

"Annie!"

Ethan! My head lifts, but there's still water in my eyes and the sun is too bright and I can't see anything... More water surges into my mouth and I splutter, my grip loosening even more.

"Annie!"

And then a strong hand seizes my wrist and I'm heaved upwards. I kick a little at the rocks, pushing upwards, trying to help Ethan, but he's strong, and in seconds I'm completely out of the water and lying face down on the rocks above. I stay where I am for the moment, coughing water to the ground, desperately trying to catch my breath. I'm aware that Ethan is shaking my shoulder and yelling my name, and yet I'm unable to find the energy to do anything about it.

"Annie!" Ethan flips me over, pulling me into a sitting position. His hands grab my shoulders and he forces me to look at him. "Annie, are you alright?"

I try to answer, but my lips are numb and my hands are trembling – partly because of adrenaline, partly because I'm absolutely freezing – and I can't talk. He untangles me from my backpack and my shredded jacket and unzips me from my soaked fleece – undressing me like I'm a child - before wrapping his own jacket around my shoulders and rubbing warm hands up and down my arms.

"C-c-cold." I stutter.

"I know, honey." He kneels up and swings my backpack over his shoulder, before sliding his hands underneath my back and legs and pulling me into his arms. "Let's get you back on dry land, eh?" As he stands, I see that I'd gotten caught in another pile of rocks further down river from the others. I'm pretty lucky, I guess. Ethan would have never gotten me out if I hadn't gotten stuck and I don't think even _I'm_ a strong enough swimmer to swim against that current.

Ethan starts towards the grassy embankment and I settle into his chest, cold and wet and exhausted. He holds me tightly as he climbs over the rocks, and I curl into him, still shivering violently and desperate for warmth.

"Wh-what happened?" I tilt my head back against his arm to look up at him, my teeth still chattering. Ethan glances down at me, his expression is grim.

"Seela slipped and took you with her."

"D-did she f-fall too?"

"No." Ethan's jaw sets. "Reuben caught her."

I slump back against his chest.

"Oh."

A pause.

"I lost my spear." I say sadly, suddenly realising. Ethan smiles absentmindedly.

"It's okay. We'll get you another one from the cornucopia."

I take a stilted wobbly breath.

Th-thanks." I say. "You know... f-for..." I trail off awkwardly, my gaze lifting to meet Ethan's. He doesn't reply and I take my bottom lip under my teeth, chewing it anxiously. "You-you didn't have to come and get me."

"I did." He says simply, and it effectively ends our conversation. I don't dare say anything else.

We fall silent as Ethan has to put all his concentration into navigating the rocks. When we reach the edge of the river, the others are already there to meet us and as Ethan puts me down on the grass, Reuben pulls out a blanket from his rucksack and tucks it around me.

"You alright?" He asks gently. I nod, still shivering, and he bites his lip apologetically. "I'm sorry... I tried to catch you."

"No." I say emphatically. "N-no, it's fine."

"You were underwater such a long time..." He shakes his head as if he can't believe I'm still alive, I'm still breathing.

"I guess being able to hold your breath for an eternity _has_ come in handy, after all." Ethan says, crouching beside me. I manage a weak smile.

"Yeah, I g-guess so."

Ash suddenly appears in front of me, dropping my rucksack into my lap.

"Let's get moving." He says sharply. Ethan's head shoots up, his eyebrows lowered into a frown.

"What the hell, Ash?"

Ash returns the glare.

"We should keep moving."

"Annie just nearly _drowned_."

"Yeah." He folds his arms across his chest. "Seems like she's been slowing us down a lot recently."

My heart stops and Ethan explodes, leaping to his feet.

"What the _hell_ are you talking about?" He snarls. "Annie was managing fine on those rocks until _she-_" and here he jabs an angry finger in Seela's direction "- threw her off."

"It wasn't deliberate." Seela protests angrily.

"Uh yeah." Ethan draws out the sound disbelievingly. "Right."

"It wasn't!" Seela shoots me a sneer. "It's not my fault she fell."

"She was careless." Ash shrugs. "You should have just let her drown."

Ethan's face floods with angry colour and his fists clench.

"Don't you d..."

"It's fine." I interrupt, anxious not to give Ash a reason to turn on us. "It's fine. Seela knocked me in by accident and it doesn't matter now anyway, because I'm fine." I tug on Ethan's trousers and he looks down at me. "I'm fine, Ethan, really."

He stands for a moment, every muscle tensed and I suddenly wonder if this is it, if this is the moment the Career Pack implodes... But then I see him take a deep breath.

"Fine." He says through gritted teeth. "We'll move on." He crouches down beside me again. "Are you okay to walk?"

I'm not really – I'm still feeling all wobbly – but determined to prove I'm not slowing us down, I nod. Ethan and Reuben help me to my feet and we all head off again, following the tribute's trail which seems to be heading eastwards along the edge of the river.

As we walk, Ethan helping me along every so often when my tiredness threatens to get the better of me, I spot Ash and Seela eyeing us confusedly. I think they're genuinely perplexed as to why Ethan saved my life. I'm pretty sure neither of them would have risked falling in the water to get me out. I'm also developing sneaking suspicions that if it had even been _Seela_ in the water, Ash would have let her drown. And vice versa.

After a while, I start to feel better, although Ethan won't take back his jacket. As we trudge along, him a little ahead of me, I eye the back of his head thoughtfully. He turns, as if realising I'm watching him, and gives me a little smile. As I smile back – naturally and easily, without even thinking about it – I realise something that sends little shards of pain through my chest.

When I leave the Careers (and I'm starting to feel like it'll have to be soon) I won't be able to take Ethan with me.

Finnick and Mags had told me and him to split up eventually, of course, but I guess I've always thought we'd stick together. I don't know how I'll survive without him, but I _do_ know that if we leave together and form our own alliance, he'll carry on protecting me, even putting his own life at risk to save my life and I can't have that. He could have let me die in that river and no one would have blamed him, but he didn't, he saved me, and he'll carry on doing that, because that's the kind of person he is.

What happens if we survive this together – if we fight off everyone else – and then it's just the two of us left? What do we do then? Because if Ethan dies protecting me and I have to go home and face his family – face that little girl with the curly blonde hair who'll have lost her big brother – I don't know what I'll do.

With a sinking heart, I realise that me and Ethan have become friends... And in the Hunger Games, that's a very dangerous thing to be.

* * *

_..._

* * *

_Sooo, relations in the Career Pack are getting more and more strained... expect explosions soon :/_

_Hope you enjoyed this chapter, a little unsure about it still, might edit a little. Let me know if you've got any ideas for improvements. Anyway, my dears, thank you for reading and please review, I love to hear your feedback xx_


	22. Explosions

_New chapter for you tonight. Just a warning, it's really not very pretty... _

_I'm too tired to think of much to say except thank you to everyone who's favourited or alerted or reviewed - especially you reviewers; extra loves for you guys XD_

_Anyways, as always, please enjoy._

* * *

**CHAPTER TWENTY TWO - EXPLOSIONS**

* * *

We follow the tribute's trail eastwards, along the edge of the river, for the rest of the morning and into the afternoon. So far without any sign of the kid we're tracking.

But Seela is refusing to abandon her hunt and so we seem doomed to trudge along after her for all eternity. Still, it gives me time to make some decisions.

Decision number one: Leave the Careers tonight.

Decision number two: Don't tell Ethan about it.

Decision number three: Well, uh, that's as far as I've got...

As for _how_ I'm going to leave the Careers (right now I'm veering towards wrangling midnight watch with Reuben and then letting him in on my escape plan) and what I'm going to _do_ afterwards (Finding a good hiding place is pretty much all I've got at the moment), I'm not really sure. All I know is that I have to get away from Ash and Seela and I can't take Ethan with me. Ash was right when he said I'm starting to slow them down. _I'm_ the one who went after Jasmine, _I'm_ the one who refused to let Seela or Ash get rid of her and _I'm_ the one who fell into the river this morning, and to be honest, I no longer have the energy to prove I'm worthy of my place in their Pack.

As for Ethan? Well, every moment I spend with _him_ just puts him in more danger. And if I'm not going to win, then I want it to be Ethan who does.

"Hey guys, can we stop a sec?" We all turn to see Reuben dropping his rucksack to the ground behind us.

"What's up _now_?" Seela groans. I fight a smile because so far, he's had to stop three times to empty his bladder. Reuben shoots us a rueful grin.

"Uh well, nature's calling..."

"Ugh." Me and Seela roll our eyes in unison and he shrugs.

"Like you don't ever have to pee."

"Just go." I say with a laugh, pointing towards the trees. Casting a cheeky grin over his shoulder, he lopes off, axe still in hand, disappearing into the greenery.

"Could do with a rest anyway." Ethan sits down on one of the rocks near the edge of the embankment. I see Ash's lips curl into a sneer. He's never quite grasped that having to sit down every once in a while _isn't_ actually a sign of weakness.

I hoist myself onto the rock next to Ethan and let out a long sigh. I might be feeling better after my dunking in the river, but I'm still completely shattered. Ethan glances at me worriedly.

"You feeling okay?"

"Yeah, yeah." I yawn. "Just tired."

He rummages in his backpack.

"Here, have a sweet." The sweets he gives me taste a lot like the minty crystals they sell in the little sweet shop at home and my heart twists with a sudden rush of home sickness. Ethan sees my expression and immediately looks apologetic. "Yeah, I know... I should have warned you."

"S'fine." I mumble through a mouthful of sweets. He opens his mouth to reply but Ash suddenly lets out a shout.

"Tribute!" He yells, yanking a knife from his belt, his gaze fixed on his new found prey apparently on the opposite side of the river. My head whips round and I spot a thin dark green shape on the rocks across the river. The tribute's head turns at Ash's bellow and my stomach drops as I recognise her.

Elenna's mouth forms an O of alarm and then she's scrambling frantically up the embankment, scrabbling over the rocks in a desperate attempt to escape the range of Ash's knife and Ethan's harpoon. She won't reach the top and the safety of the trees in time, though, I can tell. And although Ash's aim is far inferior to Ethan's, Elenna is an easy target. Ash's arm is already pulled back, his knife aimed for the kill.

All I can think about is Elenna and that bow. Elenna saving my life for no apparent reason at the start of the Games. Ethan's words _well, don't you owe her?_

And then I leap from the rock and without even thinking about it – without thinking of the consequences – I race across the few paces between us and grab Ash's arm, just as he releases the knife.

Two things happen at once.

Firstly, Ash's elbow hits me in the face – whether on purpose or by accident, I don't know – and I fly backwards, landing heavily on my back a few metres away. Secondly, Ash's knife veers off into the river, missing his target by a long shot. Elenna makes it to the trees and with one horrified and confused look in our direction, disappears into the forest.

There is a pause as everyone tries to work out what just happened. My heart starts to pound as I realise I've done the unthinkable. I've prevented Ash from making a kill.

Panic begins to bubble in my throat.

I sit up as Ash turns – slowly, menacingly – towards me. My fingers search the ground beside me for my spear, but then I remember I lost it in the river. I'm unarmed and vulnerable and there's a very angry Ash glaring at me with undisguised fury. Maybe he won't kill me, I think desperately, maybe he'll just yell a bit and then we'll all move on.

Oh who am I kidding? I'm very very dead.

"I'm sorry." I babble. "I wasn't thinking, Ash... I- I'm sorry."

I wipe a hand across my nose and realise it's bleeding. Like a shark, Ash's eyes zero in on the blood.

"Damn straight you're sorry." He says evenly. Somehow it's even more terrifying than if he was screaming.

I push myself backwards across the grass, staring up at him with wide frightened eyes. In my peripheral vision, I see Seela standing with her arms folded, a cruel satisfied smirk crawling across her lips.

Ash takes another ominous step towards me, his hand slipping towards his sword.

"Hey, hey." Ethan appears in between us, his hands up in a placating gesture. "Calm down, Ash."

"I am calm." Ash says through gritted teeth. His blue eyes, as cold and hard as diamonds, flicker towards me. "And she's going to die."

"She didn't do anything Ash." Ethan's voice is low and controlled, but the tension in his shoulders gives away his own anger, his own determination to protect me.

"She took my kill."

"She didn't. Elenna is still alive, you can still kill her."

Ash's eyebrows shoot upwards.

"_Elenna_, is it? What, were you three in some kind of secret alliance? Have you been plotting against us the whole time?"

"Don't be paranoid, Ash." Ethan growls. "Just because we know her name doesn't mean we're in an alliance with her."

"She saved my life, Ash," I tell him from the ground. "I owed her."

He turns the full force of his glare on me.

"How sweet." He sneers and then his face twists with anger. "You're a fool, Cresta. A _coward._ Refusing to kill anyone, crying like a baby whenever someone dies, _lying_ your way into sponsorships. You're not tough, you're pathetic and weak, Cresta. You're not a Career and you never will be. You don't belong here."

"Then I'll leave." I say, my mouth turning dry. "I'll leave the alliance."

"You still don't get it, do you?" Ash snaps. "To win, I have to _kill _you. I'm not going to let you run away because then I'll just have to hunt you down. It's over, Cresta, it ends now."

"You won't touch her." Ethan snarls, still in between us.

"You're a fool too, Marborough." Ash scowls. "But you're useful. I've got no issue with letting you stay." He draws his sword. "Now get out of my way so I can kill her."

I let out a squeak of alarm but Ethan stands his ground.

"No."

"Well, then I'll have to make you!" Ash spits and I see his sword swing upwards – _no!_ - but then there's a clash of metal as Ethan blocks the blow with his harpoon, the momentum of Ash's blow knocking him back a step.

Ash's eyes narrow – harpoon and sword crossed in front of their faces.

"You really want to do this?" He asks dangerously.

"You go for Annie," Ethan growls back. "You go for me."

And then they're fighting furiously, hissing and snarling like savage animals, the metal of their weapons clashing loudly over the sound of the river. Ash cries out in pain although I don't see why, but then he lets out an angry bellow - the sound echoing around the forest - and attacks with renewed strength. It's a fight that will go down in the history books... a fight I expect the Gamemakers would have preferred to be the final showdown.

I drag myself to my knees – intent on retrieving one of my knives from my bag and helping – but then a shadow falls across my face. I look up with wide eyes to see Seela smirking down at me, her sabre drawn and her eyes black with blood lust.

_She's going to kill me..._

I dive straight for her legs.

She didn't expect me to make a move, didn't expect me to fight, and so it's with a cry of surprise that she flies backwards, hitting her head hard off the ground, the sabre slipping from her grasp and landing just a few feet away. I throw myself on top of her, scrabbling desperately for the weapon, knowing that if she gets her hands on it, I'm dead.

"Get off me!" She spits, writhing underneath me like a wild cat. Her knee jerks up and smashes in the stomach, throwing me off and onto the ground. Free of my weight, she twists round and reaches towards the sabre, but I grab her wrist, digging my nails into her skin and dragging myself on top of her again. My knee slams into her back and she lets out a gasp of pain.

Screaming and swearing, she rolls us over, clawing at my face, determined to retrieve her weapon. I arch my back, trying to throw her off, but then she dives forward, kicking me in the face as she scrambles off me. Gritting my teeth, I roll over and see her fingers close around the hilt of her sabre... She drags herself to her knees, twisting round on me, blood trickling from her lips and her eyes half crazed. With an triumphant screech, she lifts the sabre above me, the blade flashing ominously in the sunlight.

But I refuse to die and I _especially_ refuse to die at her hand, so, with a war like cry, I launch myself into her stomach, taking her down again. We skitter forward, landing - me on top of her - amongst the rocks. She loses grip of the sabre and it flies over the edge of the embankment, disappearing into the depths of the river.

"Bitch!" She shrieks, flipping us over again, her hands gripping my shoulders so hard I swear she could tear through the skin. She slams my head into a rough rock embedded into the ground and I grimace. "Stupid District 4 _bitch_!" She screams, smashing the back of my head into the rock again.

Hot, wet blood seeps through my hair.

I struggle, trying to get out of her grip, but she's like a woman possessed and my head is slammed into the rock for a third time. Her furious, twisted face wavers in my vision. She's going to kill me, right here, right now, I realise, but my head hurts and I can't think straight and I don't know what to do.

Seela grabs a jagged rock and raises it high above her head, preparing to deliver the fatal blow...

I close my eyes.

But then there's a whistle and a squelch and something warm and wet splatters across my face. I open my eyes, only to come face to face with the sharp, bloodied end of a harpoon. Dazed and bewildered, I look up at Seela and she stares back, her once hate filled eyes wide and scared and _agonised_. Her lips open and shut a few times, bizarrely reminiscent of a dying fish, but then her jaw falls slack and her eyes roll back and she suddenly slumps forward. With a panicked, gasping cry, I shove her body off me, rolling out from underneath her and collapsing on my back next to her.

The echoing boom in the distance lets me know she's dead, killed by a harpoon - _Ethan's_ harpoon - through the stomach.

"Annie!" Someone yells and I look up to see Ethan, standing in front of a crumpled and bloody Ash, start slowly towards me. He's limping and covered in blood – whether it's his or not, I don't know – and there's a huge gash across his thigh. My stomach curls. "Annie! Come on!"

I pull myself to my knees and the world spins.

"Annie!" Ethan yells again, and although he's only about five metres away, his voice is distant, muted, like I'm underwater. "We have to go _now_!"

I struggle to my feet, forcing myself to step over Seela's body, unable to look away from her lifeless twisted face.

"Annie, now!"

I lift my gaze to his and my heart stops. Behind him, Ash has dragged himself upright and has his sword raised high above Ethan's head...

"Ethan!" I scream – my voice jagged and piercing and terrified – my hand lifting to warn him. Ethan turns, but it's too late. _It's too late._

The sword slices through his throat and blood explodes from his wound like a tidal wave. My scream turns to a strangled choke and my arms lift to protect myself as it hits me and I'm blinded by red and wet and warm and _no Ethan please not Ethan. _I stagger towards him, wiping blood from my eyes, and drop to my knees and _no no no! N__ot Ethan, please please please not Ethan._

The whole world falls silent and then Ethan falls, his decapitated body hitting the ground with a thud.

A cannon fires.

"No!" I shriek. "No!"

Ash stands behind my friend's fallen body, breathing heavily and soaked in blood, his sword still grasped tightly in his hand. His eyes meet mine, his pupils so dilated it's like I'm staring into two deep black holes. Keeping his gaze locked deliberately on mine, he wipes an arm across his bloody face. His sword lifts, his blade still dripping with Ethan's blood.

This is it. I'm going to die.

And then someone explodes through the bushes behind Ash and he spins round, snarling furiously at the intruder...

Reuben's face constricts in horror as he sees the carnage, the blood, Seela, _Ethan_... But then his expression hardens and I see revenge in his eyes. His face screws up in fury and his huge muscles ripple as his fists clench around his axe.

"What the hell have you done?" Reuben hisses and for the first time since the bloodbath, I see the terrifying killer hidden behind the cheerful personality. But he leaves Ash no time to answer, because then they're fighting, and I suddenly want to scream and scream and scream because I can't _do_ this anymore.

_Run._

Finnick's green eyed gaze, intense and hypnotic, nearly blinds me.

_Run._

Mags's seaweed green eyes, full of deep warnings, flicker across my mind.

_Run, _they're telling me, _run_.

And so I do.

* * *

_..._

* * *

_I should probably say thank you for reading and please review (I do love reviews) but I'm just too upset to talk right now..._


	23. Faces in the Sky

_Not too much of the Games left now... Although I am planning on continuing this until Annie arrives back in 4, plus an epilogue._

_Anyway, enjoy..._

* * *

**CHAPTER TWENTY THREE - FACES IN THE SKY**

* * *

I plough through the bushes, smacking away low hanging branches, my rucksack dragging across the floor. Little hysterical breaths slip through my clenched teeth as I run.

_Ethan is dead. Ethan is dead. Ethan is dead._

I stifle a sob.

Something hard hits my legs and I am pitched forward, my backpack slipping from my grasp. I land in a sprawled heap in the undergrowth, all of my belongings skidding across the floor and away from me. For one terror filled moment I think I've set off some kind of snare and any second now, a tribute will come rushing out of the trees to hack off my head, but then I realise I've just tripped over a tree root and I can almost taste the relief. I close my eyes for a second, taking huge steadying breaths.

But then a sudden furious bellow echoes around the forest and although I want curl up under a bush and cry and cry, I know I'm still too close to Ash and Reuben. I can't stop yet. I have to keep going.

My hands shaking, I stuff everything haphazardly into my bag and swing it properly over my shoulders, before staggering to my feet and starting off at a sprint through the forest again. To my left, I catch glimpes of the dam and work out I'm running south. I decide that I can't stop until I've reached the other river. Maybe not even then.

As I stumble into the cornucopia clearing, I fall again, overcome with dizziness. Lifting a grubby hand to the back of my head, I find it's still wet and warm. I'm still bleeding. I scrabble in my rucksack but there's nothing I can use in there to stem the blood except my sleeping bag. I tear the bandage from my arm – it's filthy and covered in blood but it'll have to do – and wrap it clumsily around my head, tying the ends as tightly as I can.

A cannon fires and like a startled rabbit, I'm up again, pelting across the clearing, zipping my rucksack up as I go.

Surely that cannon was a result of Reuben and Ash's fight? It's Ash. It _has_ to be. Ash was already tired and injured and there's no way he could have killed Reuben. It's got to be Ash that's dead.

_Please let Reuben be okay_, I chant desperately over and over in my head, as I fly past the cornucopia towards the trees on the other side of the clearing. _Please let him be alive._

* * *

_..._

* * *

I don't know how long I run for, I only know that by the time I hear the rush of water again, I'm in so much pain I can barely breathe. My head is pounding as hard as my heart and the stitch in my side is so bad it's like someone is slicing at me with a knife every time I move. I stumble down the embankment towards the other river - which although a lot wider than the other one, is shallower and rockier - and scramble over the rocks.

I collapse onto my knees in the slow moving, ankle-deep water and then I catch sight of my reflection.

A wide eyed, wild haired savage stares back at me and I actually flinch under her terrifying gaze.

I rub a tired hand across my face with a sigh. I'm ragged and filthy and scarred and absolutely covered in blood; it's smeared across my face and my clothes, even in my hair.

Ethan's blood. Seela's blood. My blood.

I splash water on my face, rubbing fiercely, and the blood runs in rivulets down my hands and into the water, along with a fair amount of dirt. I clean my face somewhat, before taking the bandages from my head and giving them a wash too. The blood from my head wound has matted in my hair and I can't tell how bad it is.

I vaguely remember Ava once telling me that head wounds always bleed a lot and it doesn't necessarily mean it's fatal. It's the first time I've thought about Ava in a long time and I wonder what she's making of all of this. The amount of times I've nearly died and she'd be sitting at home or standing in the market square, holding her breath, powerless to do anything but watch.

"I love you, Ava." I mutter, hoping the cameras are on me. They probably are. If that huge fight between Ash and Reuben has ended then they're going to be focusing on the aftermath, which includes me and whomever survived that fight. I'll bet they're going crazy in the Capitol. There hasn't been a Career Pack explosion so enormous and so soon in the Games in years.

Three Careers dead in one day and the weakest of them all somehow still alive.

I continue to wash out my head wound and then I attempt to untangle my hair, ripping out the band holding my braid together and combing my fingers through it. I don't bother tying it back up again and leave it hanging – damp, but mostly clean – about my shoulders.

Satisfied I've removed every trace of Ethan from my skin, I stand up and inspect my clothing. Ethan's jacket is clean of blood now, being water proof and all, but my fleece and my leggings are stained an awful dark red and I know are beyond saving. My legs wobble beneath me and I have to stumble from the river to collapse against a rock.

The blood on my clothes isn't mine_._

_Metal slicing flesh, blood exploding across my face, a cannon fires..._

I'm dangerously close to breaking down but I still have the presence of mind to realise I can't do it here. Grabbing my rucksack, I stagger back up the embankment and a little way into the forest. Remembering Belle's tactics, I wriggle underneath a thick, slightly thorny bush, hacking through the branches with a small knife I found in my backpack and fashioning myself a tiny hidey hole in the centre. I burrow deep in my sleeping bag, not caring that it's only mid afternoon and the sun's still out, and close my eyes.

_Ethan._

His face and his name and his laugh appear in my mind before I can squash it and tears leak from my screwed up eyes.

The guilt hits me like a tidal wave and I can't breathe because it's my fault he died and it's my fault Jasmine died and it's my fault Belle died. Suddenly completely exhausted, I drift into a fitful and restless sleep, my legs curled up into my chest in some kind of desperate attempt to stop my heart from falling to the floor.

* * *

_..._

* * *

I awaken to the sound of Panem's anthem and for one disorientated moment can't work out where I am and what's wrong with my head and why there is something sharp poking into my cheek.

And then I remember that I'm in the arena and I'm inside a thorn bush and the Career alliance is over and I'm all on my own... and then I'm heaving myself out of my sleeping bag and out into the darkness, barely pausing to check there's no one around.

I kneel on the forest floor and squint up through the trees just in time to see Seela's face waver across the sky. I must have missed Jasmine's and Ash's. And then Ethan's face is staring down at me and I have to bite down hard on my lip to stop from crying out. I slump back onto my ankles, expecting the anthem to end, but then there's another face in the sky and it's...

It's Reuben.

Reuben's dead. Reuben's _dead_.

That means... that means Ash is still alive. Ash is still alive and he's going to be out for revenge. I started all of this, I stopped him from killing Elenna. That's why Ethan and Reuben and Seela are dead. District 2s always avenge their partners and although Ethan killed Seela, I'm sure Ash will be blaming me.

I'll bet he's hunting me down right now.

Panic floods my body and I realise I'm shaking so hard I can barely scrabble back into the bush. But I do and I curl up as small as I can. I expect Ash is heading my way right at this very minute. I didn't even try to conceal my trail.

I can't move now. There's more chance he'll find me if I'm roaming around the arena like a lost child. I'm probably safest here, tucked away inside a thick thorny bush, even if it isn't very uncomfortable.

But I'll be even more uncomfortable if Ash gets hold of me.

Needless to say, I don't really sleep much that night.

* * *

_..._

* * *

The next day, I go back down to the river to try and wash the blood out of my clothes again. But no matter how hard I scrub, it won't budge and it seems like I'm doomed to be stained with Ethan's blood forever.

My bottom lip trembling, I sit in the shallows of the river, so depressed, so exhausted, I half want Ash to appear out of the bushes and just end it for me. Except he wouldn't end it quickly or painlessly, I know, he'd draw it out and make it last for hours until I'm pleading with him just to get it over with.

I toy with the twisted strands of my bracelet, thinking of District 4 and the sea and Ava and Finnick.

"I want to go home." I whisper, lifting my gaze to the sky, my eyes glassy with tears. "I want to go home... Help me Finnick, _please_."

There is a silence and nothing happens and so my head droops again, my hands going to my face. I don't even know what I was asking for, why I was even asking Finnick for anything. What can he do, really? Bust me out of the arena and smuggle me back to 4? I think not.

And then a soft bleeping sounds above me and I look up to see a silver parachute drift slowly above my head and land on one of the rocks at the edge of the river. Scrambling excitedly to my feet, I splash from the shallows and seize the metal case, unlocking it and throwing back the lid.

Clothes. A new pair of leggings and a fleece, even a spare pair of socks...

And then the tears are streaming down my face because Finnick gets it.

Finnick understands.

* * *

_..._

* * *

All kitted out in my new clean clothes, I head upriver and find myself a new bush to lie under, being incredibly careful not to leave tracks. I wrap myself up in my sleeping bag and curl up like a hedgehog, falling asleep almost immediately.

But it's not a good sleep and all I can see is acid rain and the explosion of blood and then it somehow merges together and I'm caught in a torrential storm, blood pouring from the sky, and it's in my mouth, in my throat, in my lungs ... and then I wake up, panting and gasping for air, clawing at my face trying frantically to wipe away the blood.

It takes me a few minutes to realise it was just a dream and my skin is clean and dry and I'm safe. For the minute anyway.

From that moment on, I sleep erratically, barely aware of passing time, barely aware of anything at all. Sometimes when I wake up it's light and sometimes when I wake up it's dark. But I _always_ wake up when the anthem sounds and wriggle from the bush to see who's died today.

During the second anthem after Finnick sends me the clothes, the girl from district 8's face appears in the sky and I wonder how she died. Mutt? Gamemaker trap? _Ash_? I guess Ash is on the hunt – what else would he be doing? - but after the girl from 8, there are no more deaths and the next two anthems show an empty sky.

The audience will be getting bored at such little blood shed and I realise I'll probably be driven from my hiding place soon. I guess the only thing saving me at the moment is the great entertainment I've already provided in the Career Pack. By counting backwards, I work out I've been in the arena a week. It feels like a lifetime ago that I was saying goodbye to Finnick and Mags and even longer since I was saying goodbye to Ava.

The next day, I continue my pattern of lying awake and staring at the thorns above my head, my mind replaying every death I've witnessed in this damn arena, and trying to sleep, unable to settle into anything further than a fitful nap.

I must fall asleep at some point, though, because a little while later, a scream snaps me awake and I shoot upright, scratching my cheek on a particular vicious thorn. My breath hisses through my teeth but then I remember it was a _scream_ that woke me up and I clap a hand across my mouth.

There is another terrified shriek – a girl, I think – not too far away and then I hear someone racing through the undergrowth towards me. I reach for my small knife (the only weapon I have left) and hold it tightly in my hand.

I realise I'm trembling,

The crashing of bushes gets louder and louder and I work out there's more than one thing heading my way. Someone is being chased, evidently. My whole body tenses and I pray silently that it's not a mutt.

Through the small gaps in my bush, I suddenly spot a girl, small and wiry, with short, dirty blonde hair heading in my direction... and then a huge shape ploughs into her, taking her down to the ground. For a second I think it might be Elenna, but then the girl lets out a shriek and I realise it's not.

"Please, please!" She chokes and I can see her thrashing wildly.

"Shut up." Her attacker hisses and my heart stops.

_Ash_.

Through the gaps in the bush, I see a glint of a sword.

"Please, no!" The girl sobs. But then the sword slashes downwards and there's an awful gurgling sound. Ash hacks into her without mercy and although her cannon fires, he doesn't stop. He keeps slashing and tearing and there's blood spraying _everywhere._

I have to clamp both hands over my mouth to stop myself from screaming.

Eventually, Ash stills, panting heavily and soaked in blood. I stay completely still but I'm so scared, my chest feels like it's going to explode. Slowly, Ash stands and kicks the body brutally aside. It rolls over and over and comes to a stop right next to my bush. Through the leaves, I see her poor mutilated body. Her eyes are wide open, terrified even in death and I have to bite down hard into my fingers to stop the shriek.

Ash fastens his sword back into his belt not even bothering to wipe the blood from it, but then, he's completely drenched in it anyway. Blood, apparently, isn't an issue for him.

I hold my breath as he moves closer to my bush... but then he carries on past me, stalking off through the forest, back on the hunt again.

I wait for a while until the birds start singing again, signalling the absence of a predator, and then I crawl out of my bush, inching around the girl's bloody body. Ash could have very easily found me and I would have been dead.

I decide to move up a tree. At least then if he spots me, I'll be out of his reach. I spot a few spatters of blood that let me know the direction Ash went in and head the opposite way, downriver. About a half mile along the river, I find a tall tree that'd be difficult for someone as huge as Ash to climb and settle myself about ten metres off the ground in a flat cleft where three branches join. At least I'll be safe for the time being.

But I know Ash will find me at some point. If he doesn't on his own, then the Gamemakers will send him in my direction.

Ash's revenge will be far to exciting for the Capitol audience to miss.

* * *

_..._

* * *

_Poor Annie, she's starting to lose it a little... I did say Annie wouldn't be going completely crazy and I still don't want her to be, so I decided she'll just take everything really really hard and it'll carry on troubling her and haunting her. The post traumatic stress episodes will come in later so they probably won't be a huge part of this story._

_Please review, and make sure you check out Finnick's POV story: Suffering on the Sidelines. Anyway, as always, thanks for reading._

_Lots of loves,_

_Maisie _

_x_


	24. Cold Blooded Killers

_Right, not long left to go now..._

_Thank you to those who have read, reviewed, favourited, alerted etc and thanks to those who've popped over to have a look at 'Suffering on the Sidelines'. There's going to be a lot of mentor/victor interaction in that story, sort of like how there's been a lot of tribute interaction in this one._

_Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter. Please review XD_

* * *

**CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR - COLD BLOODED KILLERS**

* * *

From then on, I stay in my tree, only slipping cautiously down the branches to refill my water bottle and to walk off the seemingly ever present pins and needles. I work my way slowly through the small amount of supplies in my rucksack, not daring even to attempt to fish without someone watching my back. I only have two bags of nuts and dried fruit, a packet of some kind of preserved meat and two energy bars and I know it won't last me long.

The day after Ash killed that girl (I find out she was from District 5) I ration myself to the one bag of fruit and nuts and an energy bar. That night, I wake up screaming and sweating and then nearly have a panic attack when I realise how much noise I've been making. I reluctantly decide to move my hiding place yet again and on the way, I find a small bush covered with berries. Thanks to Belle, I know they're safe to eat and pack as many as I can into my rucksack's front pocket. The day after that, now hidden high up in a huge leafy tree near the river, I feast on berries and the meat, but by the next day, the remnants of the berries are turning bad and I'm too scared to go and find some more. Knowing I might regret it, but so hungry I might throw up, I eat the other bag of dried fruit and then my last energy bar. But I'm still starving and by the time night falls, my stomach is rumbling so loudly I'm sure it'll alert everyone in the whole arena of my location.

No one else has died since the girl from 5 and it's making me nervous. Day ten and there's still twelve of us in the arena. Something has to happen soon.

I tuck myself into my sleeping bag – making sure I'm tied tightly to the tree trunk – and settle in for another night of bad dreams. But the Gamemakers have started dropping the temperature in the arena over the past couple of nights and tonight, it's even colder. Perhaps Ash is having trouble finding tributes to kill and the Gamemakers are trying to persuade one of us to light a fire.

No one seems to be that stupid though and I don't spot any tell tale signs of smoke.

I pull the bag right up to my neck but realise that I'm shivering a little more violently than I should be. What with the lack of food, the cold is hitting me harder than it would usually and I can't feel my fingers any more. I find my spare pair of socks and slip my hands inside, tucking them into my chest and curling up as much as the rope around my middle will allow.

I hope vaguely that the cold will distract my mind from the nightmares but if anything they get worse and after another night of broken sleep, I wake to thin and cold sunlight, still shivering and very confused. The arena is still freezing and I'm very tempted to light a fire, even if it brings Ash running. I reach for my backpack before remembering that I've run out of food and water and that today I'll have to do something or risk starving or freezing or both.

But my skin has turned very pale and I can't find the energy to untie myself, let alone go off in search of food. I lean back against the tree, shivering far too hard, breathing far too fast, and contemplate just giving up.

It's day eleven. I have no weapons, except for my small knife, no food, and there are still eleven other tributes to get rid of before I can go home.

Tears collect in the corner of my eyes, because I don't _want_ to kill anyone.

And then a familiar bleeping registers in my mind and another silver parachute drifts into the tree. I'm surprised to see it, to say the least. The further into the Games, the more expensive the sponsor gifts get and to be honest, I'm slightly shocked I still have _any_ sponsors.

I'm not exactly behaving like a victor.

But well, I'm not going to say no to my gift, and so, as the parachute comes to a stop on the branch above me, I start untying myself. It's hard work because for some reason my fingers won't work properly but eventually, I struggle to my knees and manage to reach the metal cannister. Fumbling slightly, I unlock it and the lid swings back to reveal a large flask and a sugary snack bar. I open the flask and the smell of something so delicious, so inviting, hits me so hard I nearly _drop_ the thing. Without even stopping to see what it is, I lift the flask to my lips and take a huge gulp.

Hot, thick soup. Finnick and Mags have sent me soup. I almost start crying because it tastes so good and it's so _warm_.

About a quarter way through the flask, my lips are no longer numb and by the time I've finished half of it, my hands have stopped shaking. I could probably drink the whole thing but I make myself put the lid back on the flask and then fit it carefully into my rucksack. I eat half of the snack bar before resting my head back against the tree, feeling warmer and fuller and a bit more energetic.

Water. That's what I need now.

But that means I'll have to go down to the river, and I'm a little wary about moving out of my tree. The Capitol audience must be bored stiff by now with such a lack of violence in the past couple of days and I'll bet they're braying for blood. I'll have to be careful – the Gamemakers might send another mutt or something after me and although I'm feeling better, I don't think I'll be able to run very fast.

I leave it another half an hour, making sure I'm completely steady and I have all my wits about me before starting on my mission to refill my bottle. Leaving my rope tied around the tree and my backpack safely wedged between two branches, I slide down the tree, my water bottle tucked under my arm and my knife in my pocket. The tree I picked to camp in is only a few metres into the forest, so it takes me a matter of seconds to reach the embankment leading down to the river.

I wait then for a few minutes, hidden behind a bush, my eyes searching the vicinity for any signs of danger... but then satisfied I'm alone, I dart out into the open and down the slope towards the gravelly bank of the river.

Unscrewing the lid of my water bottle, I crouch by the edge of the river and fill up my bottle. I'll clean it with the little bottle of iodine I have in my rucksack when I get back to the tree. I carefully screw the top back on the bottle and then pull myself to my feet, brushing the gravel from my knees.

"Well, well, well, look who it is..."

My blood runs cold.

"Go on, then." Ash says. "Make a run for it. I fancy a challenge."

I take a deep breath and turn, my hand slipping inside my pocket, feeling for my knife.

A couple of metres down the river bank, Ash is standing with his arms folded across his broad chest and the corner of his lips twisted in a taunting smirk. There's a bandage around his leg and a few scratches across his face, but apart from that he looks fine. I may have been running low on food, but _he_ certainly hasn't.

He cocks his head.

"You're looking rough, Cresta." He says, the smirk growing wider.

I pull out my knife and hold it in front of me.

"Stay away from me."

He lets out a snort.

"And you're going to fight me with _that_?" He opens his jacket and I see an awful display of knives tucked inside. "Which one would you like me to kill you with?" He asks, raising his eyebrows.

The hand I'm holding my knife in trembles, but I keep my chin raised defiantly.

"You're not going to come anywhere near me." I tell him and he smiles, apparently amused.

"Is that so?"

I glare at him.

"Yes."

He takes a step forward, selecting a particularly vicious looking blade from his jacket.

"What are you going to do, Cresta?" He says, his voice low and mocking. "Because I'm coming for you."

I can't fight him, of course. I'm no good in hand to hand combat and he's three times my size. I swallow hard, inching slowly backwards.

Ash smirks again.

"Been missing Ethan much?" That familiar wave of grief and guilt hits me hard and my fists clench. Ash grins at my reaction, lifting his knife and casually inspecting the sharpness of its blade. "I've got to say Cresta, it was incredibly satisfying to slice his head off. To feel the flesh give..."

"Shut up." I hiss.

"A lot of blood, wasn't there?" He remarks conversationally.

"Shut up!" I yell. "Shut up!"

Ash looks at me then, and holds his arms out tauntingly.

"Why don't you come over here and make me, Cresta?"

He takes another step forward and my eyes flicker to my right, towards the slope leading back up to the forest. If I could just get back to my tree...

"Go on." He says. "I told you to run. Makes it all more interesting anyhow."

I stay where I am, my breathing too fast, my hand clenched around the knife so hard it hurts.

Could I get up the embankment and up my tree before he catches me? Ash takes another step towards me and I know I've run out of time to make my choice.

With a little cry of alarm, I take off towards the trees.

I hear the rush of pebbles as Ash follows.

_Run_, my mind screams at me. _Faster! Faster!_ But it's like a bad dream, when you fight to run, but it feels like you're going slower and slower.

I make it to the top of the embankment, but then I skid on the gravelly floor. I catch my balance but I've lost precious seconds and Ash tackles me, taking me down with a thud. My chin smacks off the ground, blood pooling in my mouth and then I choke, spattering the pebbles around me with crimson droplets. Gasping in pain, I try to turn my knife on him, but he just grabs my wrist and slams it repeatedly into the ground until the blade falls from my hand with a clatter.

He kneels up then, shifting backwards before grasping my hips in both hands and flipping me over onto my back.

I scream.

Ash doesn't try to stop me. It's not like anyone's going to come to my rescue or anything. He just sits across my hips, his knife still in his hand, watching me with an amused expression.

"You finished?" He asks as my scream fades into a breathless gasp. I thrash underneath him, clawing at his face and hands.

"Get off me!"

"Now now now," He grabs both of my wrists in one of his hands. "None of that please, Cresta."

I snarl up at him.

"_Get_ _off_."

He grins wolfishly.

"You really think I'm going to pass up the opportunity to kill you, sweetheart?" I wriggle against his grasp but then he lets go of my wrists and instead, presses his knife gently to my throat. I tilt my head back but he follows it, keeping the blade against my skin.

I feel him lean in close, his breath hot on my face.

"I've waited so long for this." He whispers.

I swallow, feeling the blade press deeper at the movement.

"Y-you have?"

He chuckles.

"You got in the way so much. Prancing around like a flippin' fairy, fluttering your eyelashes, waffling on and _on_ about Finnick..." I let out a little indignant growl at that, but apparently Ash isn't finished. "Never actually doing _anything__, _but somehow still getting sponsors." He pauses for a second and when he speaks again I can hear the smirk. "Besides," He whispers. "There's something so very satisfying about killing a pretty girl..."

"Pervert." I hiss and when he laughs, it suddenly hits me that I'm going to die here and painfully too. I writhe against him and the knife slips, carving a jagged slice across my collar bone.

A little whimper of pain slips through my lips.

"That wasn't very clever now, was it?" Ash asks, moving the knife back up to push against my throat. I tilt my head back, despair seeping through my bones.

"I hate you." I say, but my voice cracks and he chuckles again.

"You know, Cresta, I hope Finnick is watching this..."

Of course Finnick will be watching this. The whole of _Panem_ will be watching this. I suddenly remember Ava and how she's watching me right now and how in a minute she'll be watching me die... I resolve to die defiantly. I will not cry and I will not beg. I owe that much to her at least.

I grit my teeth.

"Why?"

"Because," Ash removes the knife and grabs my chin, jerking my head towards him. His eyes are hungry. "There isn't going to be much left of your pretty face when I'm done with you."

His eyes flicker back down to look at the warm blood I can feel trickling across my chest and his pupils dilate. My stomach curls in revulsion. He's actually _enjoying_ this, it's actually energising him.

"You're a monster." I snarl and he smiles like I've just paid him a _compliment_. Still smirking, he reaches out and slides a thumb across the blood on my throat.

My breath hisses through my teeth.

And then, once his thumb is coated in blood, he smudges it in diagonal lines across my cheeks and then down my forehead and nose, humming softly as he does so.

"There." He sits back a little and admires my face. "Now you look like a proper little warrior princess."

Tribal markings. He's painted _tribal markings_ on my face.

In _blood_.

I suddenly wonder if he hasn't gone completely insane.

I wriggle again, arching my hips underneath him. I'm going to die. _I'm actually going to die._

"Hey hey," Ash croons, bringing the knife back to my throat, his other hand fisting in my jacket collar. "It won't hurt so much if you keep still..."

"Get off me!"

Ash shifts the knife, forcing my head to the side, my cheek pressing into the dirt. Not far from my outstretched hand, I see a small jagged rock...

The knife blade presses into my skin and I gasp.

"Say hello to Ethan for me." He smirks, his voice low and teasing in my ear... _flesh meets metal, blood explodes like a bomb, his body hits the ground..._ and then something just snaps. My fingers close around the rock and with a little grunt of exertion, I smash it as hard as I can into the side of his head.

He is thrown sideways, somehow dragging me with him, and then the ground slopes downwards and we're rolling over and over and over. All I can see is Ash and all I can smell is blood and then his weight is gone and we skid to a halt at the bottom of the embankment. Ash's head smacks off a rock and we both lie there next to each other for a second, dazed, stunned and, in my case, _shaking_.

And then Ash is dragging himself to his knees and although he looks sort of dizzy and slightly concussed, there's murder in his eyes. He reaches for me and I try to scrabble backwards out of the way.

But then he suddenly stiffens and his eyes widen and his breath hitches and I stare up at him, my mouth open.

And then he falls.

I let out a squeak of alarm and shuffle backwards, slipping slightly as the stones skitter out from beneath my hands and feet.

Ash slumps head first onto the ground and my heart jumps as I see large serrated knife sticking out from in between his shoulder blades.

"Ash." I whisper. "Ash?"

I reach out a visibly trembling hand, but then a cannon fires and startled, I leap backwards.

Ash is... dead?

I crawl forward and press two fingers to his throat. No pulse. Ash is actually dead.

I stare at him for a moment, a flurry of emotions rushing through my body. Relief. Confusion. Fear. And then it suddenly hits me that a knife didn't just appear out of nowhere. Someone threw it. Someone saved my life.

But why?

I look up and my heart pounds, because there, standing on the rocks out in the river, is the boy from District 11.

_Sneaky Eyes._

And he has another knife aimed at me.

* * *

_..._

* * *

_Ahh cliff hanger! __Sorry, I couldn't resist._

_Anyway, as always, thanks for reading and please please review x_

_PS Yes, Ash had gone insane. Just so you know._


	25. High Tide

_Ahh I'm sorry this has been a bit longer than usual. It's been a crazy week... I've had a BSL exam, my first driving lesson and mock exams here, there and everywhere! I'm sure any college students out there will sympathise!_

_Anyways, thanks for sticking around... hope you enjoy this x_

* * *

**CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE - HIGH TIDE**

* * *

I freeze in panic, my breath catching in a little terrified gasp.

My eyes are wide as I stare at him, waiting for him to swing his arm forward, waiting to hear the whistle of the blade in the air, waiting to feel it hit me square in the chest. Because I know he'll hit me dead on. He's only about twenty metres away and I know he can throw further and still hit his target.

It feels like the whole world stands still as I wait, my hands trembling, my breathing strained. It's going to hurt so _much._

But he doesn't move.

What's he waiting for? Why doesn't he just get it over with? And why on earth did he stop Ash from killing me?

I stay where I am, half kneeling, half sitting amongst the gravel, my heart thumping so hard I can feel it everywhere. My whole body is strumming with fear.

And then Sneaky Eyes, the boy from district 11, speaks, his voice carrying across the river.

"You killed her."

Belle. He has to be talking about _Belle_.

"I - I didn't." I reply, my voice wavering a little as his fingers clench around his knife. "It was Seela... and she, she's dead."

"You were there." He tells me, his voice angry. "_You're_ the one who found her."

He must have been there too, hiding somewhere in the trees, maybe looking out for Belle, maybe hoping to alliance with her. My chest tightens.

"I tried to warn her." I say, but I know what he said is true. I _did_ kill her.

"She was just a kid." He shakes his head and I realise he must have cared about her; maybe they were friends before. "Just a kid."

My voice shakes as it rings out across the water because I know what I'm about to say won't go down well with the Capitol...

"We're _all_ just kids."

He looks at me properly then and although he doesn't reply, his knife lowers a little.

I wonder vaguely if he's any good at hitting _moving_ targets and whether it'd be worth it to try and make a dash for the trees. I must look like I'm about to leg it because his dark eyebrows lower and his grip tightens on his knife.

"Don't move." He warns and I slump back onto the ground, my breath shuddering through my teeth.

I resign myself to sitting here. At least it'll be quick.

"Did you know her?" I ask. I don't know why, but I think I'd like to know if my death means Belle is avenged.

"My best friend's kid sister." He tells me gruffly. And I hear the unspoken words _he told me to look after her _in his voice.

"I'm sorry." I say miserably and a flash of something I can only describe as hesitancy passes across his face. Maybe he's realised I'm human too, because I'm certainly seeing a more human side of _him_.

I suddenly really want to know his name...

But then his eyes harden and his mouth sets in grim determination.

"I'm sorry too." He says and I see him steady his knife, his eyes squinting a little as he judges his target...

"Wait!" I cry, my hand flying up and he pauses, his eyes flickering up to meet mine. "Can you just tell me something before... before..." I swallow. "Well, you know." He gives me the briefest of nods. "Wh- why did you kill Ash?" Here, my eyes flicker towards the dead body slumped right next to me and I have to swallow the nausea. "Why didn't you just let him kill me first?"

He regards me silently for a moment.

"Because," He says eventually. "I don't agree with torture."

And then because I'm basically resigned to dying (_at least it'll be quick_) I give him a little sad smile.

"Thanks, I guess."

He nods again and the knife rises and the afternoon sun glints on the blade and sparkles across the river and my vision blurs and so I screw up my eyes, little tremors of fear running through my body...

_I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to die._

I tense up, waiting for the pain.

But then a deep dark rumble begins from somewhere far far below us and the ground begins to shake beneath my fingers.

My eyes snap open and I see Sneaky Eyes struggling for balance on the shuddering rocks. He gives up and collapses to his knees, clutching tightly to the jagged rock faces. Our eyes meet and I realise we're both as clueless as each other.

But this is my chance! I can get out of here whilst he's stuck out on the rocks!

I drag myself to my feet but then the ground starts shaking even harder and my legs wobble. I try to take a step forward but it's like I'm trying to walk on water and I end up flat on my face, the sharp pebbles pressing painfully into my stomach.

But I _have_ to get out of his range, because as soon as the ground steadies out, there'll be a knife in my chest before I can even _think_ about moving. I struggle to my knees but everything is shuddering so violently I get this awful feeling I'm about to throw up and I'm forced to steady myself with hands to the ground.

So _this_ is what sea sickness feels like.

And then an enormous blast, deafening as thunder, explodes from the east and a horrible sense of déjà vu overtakes me.

_The dam._

My head snaps to the side and I stare up in horror at the huge stone wall in the cliffs on the far edge of the arena.

Oh. My. _Life_.

The single fracture down the middle has splintered right across the dam wall, stretching like long groping fingers and prising the stone apart. As I watch in complete and utter terror, a huge chunk of the dam breaks free, smashing down the cliff face and hitting the ground, the resulting shock wave sending tremors through the ground, so strong my arms nearly give out beneath me.

Water explodes from the dam, pouring down the wall... _cliff faces, huge basin, trapped inside._

They're flooding the arena.

And then I'm scrabbling up the embankment, the ground still shaking so much I'm unable to do anything but drag myself on my hands and knees. Rumbles and groans echo around the arena as the whole dam begins to fall apart.

As I reach the top, a knife whistles past my shoulder. My head whips round to see Sneaky Eyes has taken a shot. Thank _goodness_ the earthquake has messed up his aim.

Hasn't he realised what's happening? Should I warn him? He might have tried to kill me, but he _did_ save me from Ash.

He yanks another knife from his satchel.

"They're going to flood the arena!" I bellow over the sound of falling rocks. His eyes flicker towards the dam and fear registers on his face, the knife he's already lifting to throw at me slipping from his fingers. My voice rises to an almost hysterical screech. "Tie yourself to something strong!"

And then I'm off again, pulling myself to my feet, grabbing onto the nearest tree for support. I risk a glance towards the dam...

There's another ear shattering explosion and the dam crumbles like it's made of sand. An unbelievable amount of water surges into the arena and I reckon I've got about thirty seconds.

Gritting my teeth and focusing all my energy on getting back to my tree, I stagger the last few metres and begin to climb. The trunk is shaking under my hands but it's staying firmly rooted in the ground. My guess is it'll withstand the wave.

It takes me about ten seconds to get up to the branches where I'd left my rucksack and by now I can hear the thunderous and familiar sound of rushing water. I sit with my back against the tree and grope frantically for my rope already wrapped a few times around the trunk. With shaking hands, I pull it around my middle and tie it in the tightest knot I can remember.

I barely have to time to hold my breath and then the water hits.

Bubbles rush around my head, the freezing water rocketing into me with such force that I am thrown forward, my nose smashing into my knees, my arms flying up to wrap protectively around my head. But even as the water is trying to prise me from the trunk, the rope yanks me backwards with such strength I feel like I'm being sliced right through the middle.

I feel the branches judder beneath me and realise that if this tree is uprooted, then I'm as good as dead. But the tree stays where it is and so do I.

It seems like forever that I can't see or hear or feel anything other than water blasting into me from all directions but in reality, it can't be more than a minute, because after that, I sense the water beginning to slow down.

I lift my head and open my eyes. As far as I can tell, the whole forest is underwater, the branches moving gently with the swirl of the water.

It's eerily peaceful.

I peer upwards, squinting through the branches, and I see the sunlight rippling on the top of the water far far above me. I still have a good two minutes or so before I have to breathe, but it becomes my first priority to get to the surface.

My fingers fumble with the rope for a few moments, before I manage to get it undone. The water lifts me easily into a standing position and I wrap a firm hand around the branch above to stop me from drifting off with the gentle current. It's my first instinct to grab my rucksack before swimming out into the open, but I resist, knowing that the water logged canvas and sleeping bag will just drag me down.

If I survive this I'll come back for it.

I pull myself slowly through the thickly twined branches, half climbing, half swimming up the tree... and then my hand grabs something that's too soft to be a branch.

I push myself upwards and come face to face with pale skin, a slackened jaw, wide blue eyes.

_Ash._

I scream, shooting backwards and smashing into the tree trunk, air rushing from my mouth in a stream of bubbles. Blood drifts from his whitened lips and I clamp a hand across my own mouth, pressing back against the trunk, fighting the urge to scream again.

I've lost air and I have to get up to the surface _now _or else I'm going to drown.

With frantic scrabbles, I drag myself upwards, the branches catching on my clothes and trying to drag me back down. It takes me seconds to reach the uppermost branches and then I'm free and in open water.

I'm _home._

My lungs beginning to ache, I swim upwards towards the light, towards the sun. But the water is deep and the surface is a long way up and I'm running out of air.

The pressure in my chest grows and grows and I swear I'm about to explode, but then I surface with a gasp, my wet hair clinging to my face. I brush it from my eyes, bobbing up and down as I tread water, panting a little as I try to catch my breath.

All I can see in every direction is an expanse of water, right up until it meets the cliff faces. I realise I was right: the dam had enough water in there to completely flood the arena. Turning in a full circle, I look around for other tributes, for any imminent threats.

But I see no one.

The water splashes gently into my face as I keep myself at the surface, my sodden clothes beginning to feel a little heavy. I'm used to swimming, of course, but I'm not usually in so many clothes and, although I'm pretty certain I can tread water for a little while, I know that eventually, I'll start to tire, eventually I won't be able to stay at the surface.

I don't know how long I tread water for, my legs steadily growing colder and heavier and my fingers turning an unhealthy shade of blue - it could one hour, it could be four - but then I feel the deep under current begin to grow stronger and it starts tugging at my tired and numb body.

I duck my head beneath the surface, my eyes roving the depths for any clues as to what's going on. A little way to the left, I see the ground slowly opening up with rigid grinding movements and the water beginning to ripple and curve downward into the blackness. My head breaks the surface again and glancing wildly around me, I see the water level visibly dropping.

They're draining the arena.

I immediately think of a bath tub; all the water, any small bit of debris being sucked down the plug hole. Multiply the size of that bath tub by a million times and _I_ become the debris.

I feel the current pull even more sharply at me and I know I have to hold onto something. If I don't, then I'll easily be pulled into that black hole and goodness knows what the Gamemakers will have waiting for me down there. I take a deep breath and dive, my body rolling like a sea lion as I fight the current, aiming instead for a tall tree directly below me.

My teeth gritted in determination, I swim downwards with strong fierce strokes towards the tree, the current catching in my clothes and sucking me sideways. I can barely feel my legs, but I fight on - _nearly there -_ my hand stretches out, flailing slightly. And then I catch hold of the branch.

I'm so shattered, I can barely move but I know I'm not safe yet. I drag myself downwards and inwards, bubbles slipping through my lips as I grunt with the effort, sharp twigs scraping my cheeks, my fingernails sinking into the damp bark.

I grab hold of the trunk, locking my thighs tightly around it and hooking my feet together. As I feel the current getting stronger, I screw my eyes up tight and press my face into the bark, my muscles shaking with exertion, my hands trembling with fear.

And then I'm in air again and I can breathe.

I'm alive. I'm not _dead_.

My chest shudders against the tree as I take a shaky breath. It takes me a few moments to gather the strength to unlock myself from the trunk and by the time I do, the water level is far below me. I edge slowly down the branches, my legs far too weak – everything else far too cold – to go any faster than an awkward shuffle.

As I reach the bottom, there's an enormous slurp and the last of the water disappears into the Gamemakers' black hole. I let go of the lowest branch and stand, swaying slightly and shivering so violently it hurts, waiting... just waiting.

There's _got_ to have been some deaths. There's no way _everyone_ survived that.

And then the cannons begin. I count, the numbers slipping through my freezing lips in husky breaths.

Nine. Nine cannons.

My slightly slow mind strains to work it out.

Twelve of us still alive when I woke up this morning. Ash's death made it eleven. That's including me... There's _two_ of us left. Just two.

My mouth falls open with a little pop.

Two of us.

I could... I might... could I actually _win _this? I start shaking again.

And then so suddenly and so unexpectedly I nearly jump out of my skin, another cannon fires. It takes a second to hear it, to believe it, to understand what it means.

There is a belated, almost disbelieving, silence and then Claudius Templesmith's voice echoes across the arena.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," He announces brightly. "I am pleased to present the victor of the Seventieth Annual Hunger Games... Annie Cresta of District 4!"

My legs give out beneath me and I hit the floor.

* * *

_..._

* * *

_So...the Games are OVER!_

_Story's not over yet, although we're on the home stretch (Edit: HA!) now guys... __Anyways, what did you think of the Games? Fave bits? Saddest moments? As always, let me know your thoughts! Thanks for reading and please review xx_


	26. Never Over

_Reunion time! Ahh I know some of you have been waiting for this... hope it doesn't disappoint! Anyways, sort of a filler chapter... sort of not, if you get what I mean._

_Also, Annie's starting to have 'moments' but she's not completely bonkers 'cause no one wants to read about a crazy girl. But I have plans... and maybe Annie's 'madness' will come in handy... and maybe it'll just make it all worse. T__hat's all I'm gonna say. _

_Anyway, as always, hope you enjoy! And please review XD_

* * *

**CHAPTER TWENTY SIX - NEVER OVER**

* * *

The hovercraft only takes about thirty seconds to arrive, but by the time the ladder descends, I'm so cold I can barely breathe. But knowing that this is my last obstacle to _home_, I manage to heave myself to my knees. I sway dangerously, the exhaustion hitting me like a wave, but somehow, I get myself onto the ladder and then I don't have to hold on, because the current is keeping me still.

As the ladder slides upwards, I'm so overwhelmed with giddiness that my stomach turns over and the soup from earlier threatens to make a reappearance... But then I'm inside the hovercraft and I'm not moving anymore. But the light is a confusing colour and it smells too citrusy and there are all these _people_.

Against their white coats and pristine skin, I'm filthy and bloody and _savage_.

I stare wide eyed and terrified like a frightened animal as someone reaches for me and if I could move, I'd probably yank away because I don't want to be touched.

Not at _all_.

But then the current suddenly releases me and without its support, I topple forward and more hands grab hold of me. I try to scream because they're _touching_ me and I can't _handle_ it but all that comes out is a kind of anxious squeak.

"It's okay, Annie." Someone says. "Don't panic."

"Don't touch me!" I manage to garble out, hitting out at them as they try to grab me, but then they're lifting me up and putting me onto a soft surface and it feels weird and _wrong_. I struggle and struggle and this time when I shriek, it's loud and piercing above the drone of the hovercraft.

"Somebody sedate her!" Someone commands and then I see the glint of a needle and it looks so much like the glint of a blade – _sword meets flesh, Ethan's gone –_ that I scream louder than I ever have before.

But then they sink the needle into my wrist and I can't move because they're all pinning me down and then the whole world is suddenly spinning. I blink drowsily and someone pushes me down onto the stretcher and then I'm being wrapped up in layers and layers of thick blankets.

"Moderate hypothermia." I hear someone say and there's a faint bleep of machines somewhere in the distance. "Partially healed head trauma, four centimeter slice across the throat and right collarbone."

I'm rapidly losing consciousness but I fight to stay awake because I won't let them knock me out; I won't be vulnerable.

I hear someone mention something about acute stress disorder and demanding more morphling but then the voices get really far away and it feels like there's some sort of ocean current beneath me, dragging me down down down...

My eyes flutter shut and I am aware of no more.

* * *

_..._

* * *

When I wake up, I can't move at all and there's a weight across my hips and oh my _life_ I'm underneath Ash and he's got a knife to my throat and I'm going to die... I take a ragged breath to scream.

And then I remember.

Sneaky Eyes, the earthquake, the dam, the _flood_.

I'm alive. I _won_.

I can go home. I'll live in Victor's Village with Finnick and Mags and Ava.

_Ava!_

My heart suddenly aches so hard to see her I nearly cry. I want her to hold me, to tell me she believed in me from the start. And I'll be able see her again because I won.

I _won._

I take a second to just breathe and look around.

I'm in a small room that's pretty dimly lit. I can just about make out a chair in the corner and the machines around my bed... machines, I soon realise, that are attached to me.

I wonder how long it'll be before they think I'm well enough for the crowning ceremony... not long, I presume. I don't think I'm too badly injured really, especially compared to most of the other victors. A lot of them are unconscious during the announcement of their victory, collapsed on the floor in a pool of blood surrounded by their own guts and severed limbs... but me? Yeah, my head hadn't healed from where Seela smashed it into a rock and there was that cut across my collar bones and didn't someone mention something in the hovercraft about hypothermia? But apart from that, I was okay.

I _am_ okay.

Well, physically, anyway.

I close my eyes as things I really want to forget surge into my mind. Little, _strange_ things like blood smeared across that crocodile mutt's snout, the little purple flower in Jasmine's hair, the warmth of Ethan's chest when he carried me over the rocks.

And that's how it continues. I lie awake for hours, replaying every moment of those damn Games over and over in my head, torturing myself with the knowledge that every one else is dead, I'm only alive _because_ everyone else is dead... and then _eventually,_ when the people I'm sure are monitoring me are tired of watching me sob or scream (it varies), the machines bleep a little and I feel something cool seep into the veins of my wrists and I'm able to sink into the welcome oblivion of unconsciousness.

Is this what my life will be like? Memories and pain only erased from my mind by drugs? I want to see Finnick and Mags. I want to ask them if it gets better. If it was worth winning.

During some of my more hysterical moments, I find myself wishing I'd died in that arena.

* * *

_..._

* * *

The time finally comes when I wake up and I'm no longer restrained and there's no longer a drip in my arm and I guess I'm expected to get up.

I slowly climb out of the bed and find a pile of clothing at the end of the bed. As I'm untangling myself from the weird nightie thingy I've been put in, I'm struck by the flawlessness of my body and my skin... The previously burnt and slightly blackened skin of my right hand and arm is smooth and fresh and when I lift my hand to the back of my head, I can just about a feel the puckered scar underneath my hair. As for my throat, there isn't even anything there anymore, even my older scars – the scrapes from the rough ropes on the whaling trips, the scar on my arm from when I sliced in on a rock swimming too close to the cliffs, the little burn on the inside of my left wrist when Ava was first teaching me how to cook – they're all completely gone...

I'm as perfect as Finnick.

It takes me longer than usual to get ready – I'm still a smidge unsteady – but after a little while, I'm dressed and my hair – now glossier and thicker than before – is braided rather roughly into a fish tail. Now, I'm just waiting awkwardly for something to happen. I fidget restlessly, anxious to be reunited with my team, anxious to see their faces again and then the wall suddenly slides open – concreting my suspicions that I'm being watched – and I edge carefully through.

"Hello?" I rasp, my voice hoarse and croaky from lack of use. "Finnick? Mags?"

And then I hear someone call my name and I recognise the voice and it makes my heart stutter with excitement.

"Annie!"

I whirl around to see him – to see _Finnick_ – standing at the bottom of the hallway.

"Finnick!" I cry, taking off towards him, my boots echoing loudly on the marble floor.

He takes a few steps towards me, his hands lifting to catch me...And then I hit him, my arms flying around his neck, his wrapping around my waist to hold me close.

"Finnick." I choke into his chest. "_Finnick_."

"You did it," He whispers into my hair. "You did it."

And the tears are trickling down my cheeks because I never thought I'd see him again. His arms tighten and I realise I'm shaking.

"_Ethan_." I gulp back a sob.

"I know." He murmurs, rocking me gently from side to side like I'm a child. "I know, sweetheart." I bury my face into his neck and he smells like sunshine and sea and _Finnick_ and another sob shudders through my chest.

"I thought I was going to die." I sniff, my voice muffled against his skin. He pulls away slowly, his hands still on my hips, holding me away from him and ducking his head so I have to meet his eyes.

"But you didn't." He tells me and although there are still tears blurring my vision somewhat, I smile up at him, a relieved sort of half sob, half laugh slipping through my lips.

"I know."

Finnick goes to pull me into another hug, but then I hear a high pitched and slightly indignant voice that I recognise.

"Hey! Let me share the love too!"

And then Finnick's laughing and so am I, because Starla has barrelled into me, flinging her arms around my neck. I hug her back although it's quite difficult because she's bouncing up and down, tears streaming down her cheeks, clearly torn between giggling excitedly and sobbing hysterically.

"You won!" She cries. "I knew you could do it!" I blink at her, but she's already blazing on happily. "You should have seen it, everyone went absolutely mental! They'd all written you off the moment Ethan died!"

I flinch (_sword meets flesh, Ethan's gone_) and over Starla's shoulder I see Finnick eyeing me concernedly.

"Alright, alright." He says and I feel him gently prising Starla's surprisingly strong arms from around my neck. "Don't overwhelm her."

I'm about to protest and insist that I'm fine when I catch sight of my other mentor just behind him.

"Mags!" I squeak and then I throw myself into her arms. She staggers a little and I immediately pull backwards, my hands flying to my mouth, babbling apologies, but she just smiles at me, holding out her arms again.

"Come here, you."

I hold her tightly, pressing my face into her shoulder.

"You did well." She says into my ear and her voice is a little thick. "You did 4 proud."

I close my eyes, smiling, although the tears are burning in the corners of my eyes again.

"I ran." I say and I feel her chest vibrate as she chuckles.

"You ran very well."

"I hid too."

"And you did that very well too."

"They flooded the arena." I say, suddenly remembering her words back in the train on the way here, a day that seems like a hundred years ago. She pulls away and her eyes crinkle as she smiles at me.

"Anything can happen."

I let go of her, glancing between the three of them, my bottom lip beginning to wobble.

"I won." I say and then suddenly, the tears are back and my hands are over my eyes and although I know it's weak and pathetic, I'm crying again. "I won," I choke out. "And Ethan's _gone_."

And then I'm in Finnick's arms.

"Shh." He whispers and there's something horribly sad in his voice. "It's okay."

"It's not." I sniff. "Ethan's gone."

"I know, I know, but he saved you... lots of times."

Of course that only makes me cry harder.

"That's my point." I wail into his chest. "He died saving me!" My tears spill through my fingers and begin to form a damp patch on his shirt. "He's gone." I sob. "A-and it's all m-my fault and, and I could, I could have helped him but it was too late, I was too _late_..."

"He made a choice, Annie." Finnick tells me softly, his warm hands rubbing up and down my arms. "He didn't have to save you all of those times. No one would have blamed him if that croc had caught you, or if he hadn't pulled you from the river, or if he hadn't been able to kill Seela in time... but he did, he saved you Annie and he _chose_ to do it."

"But I killed him..." I whisper brokenly, clinging tightly to his shirt.

"No, you didn't." Finnick says firmly. "Ash did, not you. It was _Ash_."

There's a strange sort of fury in his voice, not raw or passionate, but colder, harder, more like steel... But then he speaks again and his voice has returned to normal and his touch is still as warm as ever.

"Starla," He says over my head. "Did you say you and the prep team were alright to start getting her ready now?" The answer must be affirmative, because then he pulls away, holding me at arms length and scrutinising my tear stained face. "Right," He shoots me a smirk. "Shall go and sort out that pretty face of yours then?"

* * *

_..._

* * *

Starla is in tears again by the time I'm ready for the Victor's Ceremony.

"I'm just so happy you're alive." She hiccups, wiping her nose and smearing silver glitter across her face.

"Uh Starla..." I go to the point it out but she's pressing her hands into her eyes.

"I thought you were going to die!" She snivels.

"I'm not dead." I whisper, reaching out to take one of her hands. "I'm here." She peers at me through her fingers and subsequently bursts into another round of tears.

"And you look so _beautiful_..." She sniffs.

I'm not entirely sure how to answer that, but she's right, and it's in no small part due to her latest creation; the most enigmatic, the most subtle of all her dresses yet.

The dress I'm in is floor length, and as with all my other dresses, is made from that sparkly material that shimmers every time I move, but this time, it's not blue or silver, it's the palest of pale greens - the exact colour of the crisp early morning mist above the cliffs back home. My hair is long and flowing down my back and I'm wearing very little jewellery; Apart from my twine bracelet (which I refused to allow Starla to cut off) a simple string of pearls wound up wrist is my only adornment. It's all very simple and elegant and _mysterious_.

I've lost a lot of weight since before I went into the arena – understandable really since for the last four or five days of the Games I barely ate anything – and my face is a lot thinner, my cheekbones more prominent. I've lost a lot of my curves too, and the dress skims my hips in a way that makes me look even skinnier. But Starla told me that, at the moment, it's the fashion to be dangerously slim and so I'm safe from the surgical enhancements other female victors have been forced to undergo at the end of previous Games.

"You ready?" Starla asks once she's pulled herself together.

I take a deep breath and nod.

It's time to relive the Games.

* * *

_..._

* * *

Once I've left the prep rooms, I am taken down in a lift right below the stage. It's dark and damp and really awful down here, but the victors always rise up onto the stage from below and I, of course, am no different.

Starla and her prep team are already in position to be introduced on stage and I assume Finnick and Mags are too. That is until someone touches my arm and I whirl round, my heart leaping in fear, my mind still not fully comprehending that I'm no longer in danger, no longer in the arena, only to see Finnick, looking rather charming in a dark suit and open necked shirt.

He grins.

"Just me."

I let myself relax.

"Right. Sorry."

"No," He says, reaching out and absentmindedly tucking a lock of my hair behind my ear. "It takes some getting used to."

"Does it?" I ask quietly. He pauses, his hand still lingering at my cheek, his eyes on mine. "I still see it, Finnick." I whisper. "I still see them die. I see _Ethan_ die. Over and over and over and it never ends." His thumb moves down my cheekbone and I close my eyes for a minute, partly because I can't hold his gaze, partly because I feel like if I don't, I might cry.

We stay like that for a second, standing close to each other, Finnick's hand a gentle caress on my cheek.

"Does it ever get better?" I ask suddenly, my eyes fluttering open to meet his. I see him hesitate and my heart falls about a million miles. "It doesn't, does it?"

"It depends." He shrugs, dropping his hand back to his side.

I shoot him a glare.

"Don't you dare try to fob me off with that..."

"I'm not." He shakes his head, lifting his hands in a placating gesture. "It gets better, I promise."

He's convincing, that's for sure. If it wasn't for something I'm not sure how to describe in his eyes – an odd mix sadness, trepidation, anger – I'd believe him.

"What is it?" I ask, my mouth suddenly dry. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He says.

"Finnick..."

"I can't..." He says in a pained voice, his eyes darting around, searching the shadowy room for unknown enemies. "I _can't_, Annie."

"Tell me." I insist.

"I can't." He repeats softly. "Not here."

"I don't understand..." I whisper.

He turns away and heads towards the door.

"Just give them a good show, Annie, okay?" He says bitterly, not even glancing back. "That's pretty much all they want."

"But," My voice is confused. "But the Games are _over."_

He stops then, pausing in the doorway, turning to look at me over his shoulder.

"Believe me, Annie," He says wearily. "The Games are _never_ over."

* * *

_..._

* * *

_Dun Dun DUN! Ahh, hope you enjoyed it. Sorry, not much action in this one, especially compared to the Games... I promise the next chapter will move this along a bit faster._

_Thanks for reading guys, hope I'm not boring you ;) please review!_


	27. The Second Time Round

_I have now finished college! Yay! I still have exams over the next few weeks, but I'll have a lot more free time, so hopefully, I'll get this baby done and dusted pretty soon. _

_Sorry for the delay in posting, guys, hope this chapter makes up for it xx_

* * *

**CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN - THE SECOND TIME ROUND**

* * *

I stand on the small platform beneath the stage, my legs wobbling and my hands trembling as I wait for the moment I will be thrust upwards and into the limelight.

I should be used to cameras by now. The whole of Panem has been watching me for the last couple of weeks - they've seen me sob, heard me scream, watched what should have been private moments of grief - but I'm so terrified, I can barely move.

I don't know if I can cope with watching the Games again. It was bad enough the first time round.

I hear them announce everyone from my team (the appreciative screams get louder when Finnick is called on stage), and then someone gives the signal and I hear Caesar Flickerman roar my name and the platform is suddenly rising upwards. The lights are so bright and the screams and cheers so loud I am momentarily stunned. I stand, frozen to my spot, blinking like a rabbit caught in headlights.

And then Caesar appears at my side and takes my hand, leading me gently across the stage towards the lavishly decorated golden victor's chair positioned next to his own purple arm chair. He gives me a little nudge and I sit down, staring dazedly out at the baying crowd.

"So Annie," Caesar sits in his own chair, leaning back comfortably. "Welcome back!"

Of course the crowd cheers even more at that.

I manage a faint smile.

"Thank you."

He beams back at me, gesturing for the crowd to quieten down.

"How are you feeling? All fixed up?"

I nod minutely.

"Yes." I say in a small voice.

"Don't be shy! Don't be shy!" Caesar cries. "We're all friends here!"

My eyes darting towards the audience, I spot Finnick and Mags in the front row. Mags gives me a reassuring nod and I shoot her a little smile, settling back in my seat a bit, making the effort to relax my shoulders.

"I'm feeling better, thank you." I say a little more loudly and confidently, although my hands are still shaking.

"We all saw your face when you won..." Caesar shakes his head, smiling fondly at me. "You looked so very disbelieving."

My hands ball into fists on my lap as I remember the flood, Ash's body tangled in the trees, my lungs feeling fit to burst...

"I was." I say, my voice shrinking again. "Uh that is um no, I couldn't believe it."

"Yes, yes..." Caesar nods. "We were all surprised. We haven't had so many die within such a short period of time for a long while."

I swallow.

"No..."

"You were treading water for such a long time!" He exclaims. "Tell me... what were you thinking? Did you think you'd make it?"

"Um. I don't know." I fumble for words. "I just... I guess I knew I only had so much energy and I wouldn't last forever...but then, I'm used to swimming, being from district 4 and all."

"Yes," Caesar gushes. "You swam, my dear, like a fish. Astounding to watch, wasn't it?" He turns to the crowd who cheer their agreement. "You looked right at home in the water." He continues with a chuckle. "Like you were _born_ to swim."

I smile.

"Thanks."

"And of course..." Caesar leans forward, regarding me intently. "I've got ask you about your mentor..."

I blink at him.

"Mags?"

A small chuckle rolls around the audience and I finds myself flushing embarrassedly.

"No, Annie." Caesar says patiently. "Finnick?"

Oh. _Right_.

I chew on my lip, avoiding looking out to where I know the man in question is sitting.

"What about Finnick?"

"From what we can tell..." Caesar tells me gleefully. "You two are a lot - how shall I put it? - _closer_ than most other mentors and their tributes..."

I swallow.

"Oh." I say lamely. "Are we?"

"Yes!" Caesar cries. "And we've been _dying_ for details." My fingers twitch at his choice of wording, but he's already moving on. "And Finnick is being such a spoilsport. He won't say a word!"

I try to smile but I think it's not very convincing.

"There isn't really much to say."

"Annie!" Caesar scolds me playfully. "We all saw you in that arena...the blushes, the note," And here is eyes shift towards my wrist. "The _bracelet_."

Predictably, I start to flush again, which sends Caesar into peals of laughter.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," He announces to the crowd. "I do believe we have our answer."

I put my hands to my face as the audience laughs raucously at me, finding my skin red hot with humiliation. I stare out at their hideous Capitol faces and feel sick to the stomach. Finnick was right. All they ever want is a good show.

Once the laughter has finally died down, Caesar turns back to me.

"Well, Annie, let's move onto your experience with the Careers..."

I gulp, my cheeks still burning.

"Mm?"

"You and Ash didn't really get on, did you?"

What an understatement. I shrug.

"I don't think Ash got on with anyone." I say vaguely.

"And Seela?"

"She was... she was there to win." I reply hesitantly. "And I guess the rest of us got in her way."

"And what about Jasmine? Anyone could see you cared about her."

"I did." I say softly.

"Your only kill." Caesar points out and I think I might flinch.

"Yes."

"What was going through your mind when you gave her the morphine?"

My hands are trembling again.

"I- I- I don't know." I stammer. "I don't remember." Please move on, I plead silently, please please just move on.

But Caesar is relentless.

"Ah, don't spoil our fun, Annie." He says lightly. "Come on... what were you thinking about?"

"I just..." My voice is barely audible. "I just didn't want her to be in pain anymore."

Caesar smiles.

"That's very sweet." He says, but then he leans in again, shooting me a conspirative wink. "Of course, it must have helped that Jasmine's death meant less competition..."

My fists clench.

"No!" I cry, my voice echoing out across the now silent crowd. Caesar blinks at me, a little stunned at my vehemence. "I mean, no." I repeat quietly. "That wasn't what I was thinking at all."

Caesar smiles at me, apparently recovering from his surprise.

"Not often we get a big hearted victor, is it?" He asks the crowd. There are a few 'ahhs' as the audience beams back at me and I manage a weak, embarrassed smile in the direction of the cameras. "Right," He moves swiftly on. "And of course, I've got to ask you about your district partner..."

I feel myself pale.

"Oh?"

"Ethan Marborough..." Caesar lifts a hand and suddenly, Ethan's face appears on the screen behind us. I stare up at his determined expression and feel a pang of loss, so intense, so fierce it makes me want to cry right here, right now. "You were pretty close to him, weren't you?" I nod, not trusting myself to speak. "He helped you out a couple of times..."

"He saved my life." I reply, my voice catching.

"And that moment when he died..?" Caesar trails off.

There is an eager silence. I can sense all eyes on me, the audience waiting excitedly for my reply. They like it when tributes make friends... there's much more drama when it all kicks off.

"I don't know." I whisper eventually. "It just happened so fast. One minute he was there, the next I was on my own."

"Yes, yes..." Caesar nods sympathetically. "I have to tell you, everyone was absolutely stunned, weren't we?" The audience rumbles it's agreement. "The odds had certainly seemed to be in his favour..."

My eyes flicker towards his face again, still on the screen behind me, immortalised forever in my mind. My throat clogs up and it hurts to breathe.

I can't do this anymore. I can't sit here and talk about it like everything's just fine... Because it's not and I'm not sure it ever will be. I know that if Caesar tries to ask me more about Ethan, I'll cry.

But then miraculously, my interrogator turns to look at the audience and gives them one of his famous smiles.

"Of course we only have time for a brief chat with Annie Cresta tonight! But don't worry, we'll be talking to her in depth tomorrow..." Oh _goody._ "At two o'clock, so make sure you all tune in!" He says it so jovially it's easy to forget everything about the Hunger Games is obligatory viewing. "But now," He continues brightly. "It's time for everyone watching to sit back, relax and enjoy, as I give you... The 70th Annual Hunger Games!"

The crowd explodes into enthusiastic applause and the lights around the huge studio begin to dim. Of course, I'm still illuminated and there are still one or two cameras pointed in my direction. As Panem's anthem rings out across the audience, I tense, my hands fisting in my lap, my nails cutting into my palms.

_I'm back in the arena, still stained with Ethan's blood, staring up into the sky as his face shines down on me..._

I give myself a little shake.

No. I'm not back in the arena. And I never will be. I'm safe. I just have to get through this and the crowning and the interview tomorrow and then I can go home to District 4 and Ava.

I stare at the huge screen on the back wall behind the audience, positioned there so the audience can watch both the action on the screens behind me and my expression at the same time, and set my jaw.

I can do this.

I can _do_ this.

* * *

_..._

* * *

I can't do this.

So far, I've nearly died three times - the first time at the Cornucopia within the first minute of the Games, the second time, the next day, running from the acid rain and the third, when I nearly slipped out of the tree down into the jaws of the croc mutt. I've seen in gory detail all four deaths during the bloodbath, I've watched Belle's death from a new even more horrific camera angle and I've witnessed Preese's death for the first time (which was absolutely terrifying - the croc tore him apart like paper) And at the moment, I'm watching us Careers make our way across the rocks heading towards the outskirts of the arena on what I think is the third day.

I know I won and all, but it seems like most of the early stages of Games was focused on me and the Career pack. Nothing that we weren't involved in seemed to happen. Objectively, I see just how exciting our alliance was – Ash and Ethan _hated_ each other and watching it back, I realise just how much Seela detested me – but then I remember that this is _me_ and Ethan's _gone_ and it's like someone's stabbing me in the chest over and over and over.

The Gamemakers have made sure to include a secret conversation between the District 2 tributes about how and when to get rid of us 4s. They'd eventually decided on killing Ethan together – as quickly as they could so as to cause minimum damage to themselves – and then taking their sweet time with me. I sort of wish I'd never seen that. It only reminds me of Ash straddled across my hips, smearing my own blood across my face, his lips twisted in a cruel smirk.

My eyes burn with tears as I watch Jasmine take her last breaths. My hands start shaking when on the screen, I launch myself at Ash to save Elenna. My breath catches in my throat as Ethan intervenes.

And then everything has suddenly gone horribly wrong and I am forced to watch the deadly battle between Ethan and Ash... knowing exactly how it ends.

Seela's cannon. Ethan yelling my name. Ash dragging himself to his feet.

_The glint of a blade, sword meets flesh, blood explodes like a tidal wave._

And then I really really can't do this anymore and all the hurt, all the fear, all the grief hits me so hard I can barely stay upright in this stupid seat, in this stupid studio, in this stupid _world _I'm forced to live in.

And so I do the only thing I can.

I scream.

* * *

_..._

* * *

_So what's gonna happen to our Miss Cresta now...? Stick around, I'll try to post the next chapter soon._

_Anyways, hope you enjoyed it, please review xx_


	28. Hysteria

_Please review xx_

* * *

**CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT - HYSTERIA**

* * *

My scream explodes out across the audience, so loud, so piercing, it sounds like it could shatter glass. I fold in on myself, my hands over my ears, my eyes screwed up tight. It's like the dam has broken and all the pain and terror I've kept bottled up inside me has exploded from my lips in an endless unstoppable shriek.

I might have gone mad and I don't care.

My screams are joined by the audience's cries of shock and confusion. The room suddenly plunges into darkness and the stage shudders with echoing footsteps. Hands grab me and I screech harder, smacking them away, struggling as I am half dragged, half carried off stage.

I'm tugged along through darkness and then suddenly it's too bright and I scream again. Someone throws me onto something soft and then hands pin me down as I kick and thrash against them.

And then I'm _actually_ back in the arena and now it's Ash pinning me to the ground. His cold blue eyes flash and his smug voice ripples like a wave around my head as he wields his knife. I writhe underneath him but I can't move – I can't _move_ - because Seela's there too, gripping my hands above my head and stopping my struggles, mouth set in grim determination. I take a ragged breath to scream again but then Ethan is hovering over me and the warm, kind eyes I remember are filled with such hatred I can't even breathe, let alone make a sound.

"You killed me." He growls, fury and resentment in his voice.

"I'm know!" I sob. "I'm sorry, Ethan! I'm sorry!"

But his eyes are unforgiving and then he lifts his harpoon high above his head – high above me – his hands clenched around it so tightly his knuckles are white. A strangled scream of terror escapes my lips because for the hundredth time in my short life, I realise that_ this is it _and I'm going to_ die_... and then with a roar of anger, Ethan slams the spear down towards me, down towards my heart...

"Annie!"

My eyes fly open just as I feel Ethan's harpoon thud into my chest, piercing flesh and bone. But then he's gone and it's just Finnick leaning over me and there's no harpoon... but oh god, my chest hurts like there is.

"Finnick." I choke and then his arms go around me and he's so warm and solid and comforting, tears begin to stream down my cheeks.

"It's okay," He whispers. "It's okay."

"I was _there_." I sob into his chest. "And Ash and Seela... And _Ethan _and his _harpoon_ and he was going to kill me."

"He wasn't, he wasn't." Finnick soothes, rocking me gently. "It wasn't real, sweetheart, you're safe."

"It _was_ real."

"It wasn't." He murmurs, his hand lifting to stroke my hair. "You never have to go back there. You're _safe_."

"I killed him!" I wail. "He told me I did!"

"No, he didn't." Finnick says firmly. "Ethan would _never_ say that. Ethan cared about you, Annie, I know it. He _wanted_ to protect you."

"But he told me..."

"No." He holds me tighter. "What you saw wasn't the real Ethan. Ethan's gone, Annie."

Another sob racks through my body and fresh tears pour down my cheeks. He's gone, I chant over and over in my head, Ethan's gone.

But he's _not_ gone. And neither is Ash, nor Seela nor Jasmine nor Reuben nor Preese. And none of them ever will be.

"_You_ were gone." Finnick suddenly whispers. "Just now. I couldn't... I couldn't get through to you... you were screaming but you weren't there, Annie, you weren't there."

My breath shudders through my teeth.

"I was in the arena."

"You were shaking." He mutters, pressing his nose into my hair. "You were shaking so hard."

I sniff.

"For how-how long?"

"About a minute." He replies softly. "I had to fight through the peacekeepers to get to you."

I tilt my head upwards to look at him, my wet eyes wide.

"Peacekeepers?"

"Don't worry," He tells me. "I kicked them all out."

I'm suddenly as scared as I was in the arena, as scared as I was back in that waking nightmare of a few minutes ago.

"Why peacekeepers?" I ask, my mouth turning dry.

Finnick looks sombre.

"They're not happy, Annie. Silas Benedict is on his way."

I let out a whimper, pushing my face back into his chest.

"Will they kill me?"

"No." I feel him shake his head. "No... but they might... they might ah..." He trails off as the someone tries the door handle. It's locked and after a moment's silence, there's a furious knock on the door. Finnick goes to pull away from me, but I launch myself at his neck.

"No! Don't leave me!"

"Annie..."

I tighten my grip, mashing my nose into his neck.

"No!"

"It's okay." He whispers, giving my back a soothing rub. "I'll be right outside, I promise."

"I'm scared." I clutch at him desperately.

"I know, but it's going to be okay, you'll see."

I release him a little, just enough to look up at him again.

"You promise?"

His expression blurs into a mix between anger and pity and sadness and he shakes his head.

"I can't promise that." He closes his eyes. "They won't hurt you Annie, they can't, but..."

He stops again – his eyes snapping open and towards the door – as whomever it is outside knocks again.

"But...?" I ask apprehensively.

His gaze shifts back down to me.

"Wait here."

And then he untangles himself from my grasp and stands, leaving me slumped forlornly on the couch, before turning and making his way across the room. He unlocks the door and slips through, shutting it firmly behind him.

"What the hell is wrong with her?" Someone bellows angrily from outside.

I vaguely recognise the voice as belonging to the Head Gamemaker and creator of all my nightmares, Silas Benedict. I'm torn between fury and utter panic.

I hear the low rumble of Finnick's reply, but can't make out the words.

"Ill?" Benedict explodes. "Ill? Of course she's not bloody ill. She's perfectly healthy. The medics made sure of that."

Finnick says something else but again I can't hear him. I sit up properly and strain my ears.

"You're saying she's mental?" Benedict asks loudly. His words hit me like tidal wave. Mental? Finnick said I was mental?

When Finnick replies, I only catch his final word.

"...disorder."

Benedict lets out a groan.

"Great. Just great." He says. "I've got a deranged victor on my hands."

"She's not deranged!" Finnick snaps back.

Well thanks Finnick, I think sarcastically. I'm mental but not _deranged_.

I slip off the couch and edge slowly towards the door.

"You just said she was insane yourself!" Benedict replies.

"I did not!" Finnick is vehement. "I said she had acute stress disorder."

"Otherwise translated as completely insane." The Head Gamemaker drawls, before continuing irritably. "How the hell am I going to sell this? The Capitol likes their victors strong and brutal... not a hysterical mess."

By this time I have my ear pressed up against the door so although Finnick's reply is quieter, I now hear every word.

"Tell them the truth. Tell them she's ill."

Benedict lets out an irate sigh.

"Just my luck, isn't it, that _she's_ the only tribute who can swim."

"You flooded the _whole_ arena, Benedict," Finnick growls. "What the hell did you expect?"

"I _know_ I made a mistake, okay? Snow's on my back enough as it is for ending the Games without a dramatic final battle, I really don't need an insane victor to add to it."

"_All_ victors are insane, Benedict."

"Not like _that_!" Benedict's voice rises angrily. "I saw her when they dragged her back here... she was like a flipping wild _animal_."

There is a silence. I stand, leant against the door, my eyes closed and a dull empty ache where my heart should be... Even _Finnick_ thinks I'm insane.

"She's not going to be able to go back on stage and watch the rest of the Games, you know." My mentor says softly after a minute or two.

"She has to." Benedict replies firmly. "Snow will have my head on a platter if I cancel it."

I hear Finnick sigh.

"She's just had an episode and I don't think it'll be her last one."

"An episode?"

"Practically hysterical, shaking uncontrollably, vivid flashbacks." Finnick's voice is pained. "She was looking at me like I was about to kill her... apparently, she was seeing me as Ethan and he was blaming her for his death."

Just the mention of it threatens to send me back into hysterical convulsions. I rest my forehead on the door, taking deep calming breaths, working around the growing lump in my throat.

"Bloody hell." Benedict whistles. "And you're trying to tell me she's not insane?"

Finnick doesn't reply and my hands start trembling again.

"Maybe that's the best thing we can do for her..." Benedict continues eventually. "Let everyone know she's insane."

Finnick snorts.

"Best thing for _you_, maybe."

"Well, yes," Benedict admits. "That would take the heat off me a bit. After all, it's not my fault she's too weak to cope with her victory."

My eyes open and then narrow. _That's not fair!_ I rage silently.

Luckily, Finnick voices my thoughts for me although it seems Benedict isn't impressed.

"Shut it Odair." He says and I can practically _see_ him rolling his eyes. "You know the best thing for her to do is to go nuts. Gets her out of a lot of trouble."

"I don't..." Finnick sounds like he might be protesting, but Benedict cuts him off.

"Look I'm not stupid, kiddo, I know you care about her... but she's beautiful and a beautiful victor is a very dangerous thing to be..." My eyebrows crease confusedly. His words make no sense to me. "If the Capitol people realise she's insane," He continues. "None of them will want her and if none of them want her, then Snow can't use her, got it?

Use me? What would Snow use me for?

"You think that would work?" Finnick asks.

"Well," Benedict lets out a little chuckle "She's not exactly _all there_ is she?

I grit my teeth furiously. Go on Finnick, stick up for me.

"I guess not." He says.

My mouth drops open and Benedict laughs outright.

"Admit it Odair, she's completely bonkers."

I have to cover my face with my hands. I'm _not_ insane. I'm _not_ bonkers. Finnick, _tell him_, I plead silently... But then he lets out this little sigh and I know he won't. I know he thinks I'm crazy too.

"She's not..." He hesitates. "She's not _right_."

Benedict guffaws.

"Ah we'll work on it. Now go give her some of this... and we'll get on with the show."

"I'm not drugging her." Finnick's voice is heated. _Too right_, I think, he's not coming anywhere near me with a needle.

"It's just some sedatives. It'll help her get through the recap without another 'episode' as you call them."

"I don't care. I'm _not_ giving her any drugs."

"If she doesn't get back out there," Benedict says slowly, like he's reasoning with a child. "Snow isn't going to be happy, okay? And there are three people he's not going to be very happy with... that's me, you and her. So get your backside in there and give her this. It won't harm her, it'll just mean she can get through the rest of the recap, okay?"

I hold my breath. Don't give up on me Finnick, _please_.

"Fine." He says eventually and my heart sinks. "Give it here."

"You've got five minutes." Benedict says. "Flickerman is running out of things to ask your nitwit of a stylist."

And then I realise that if Finnick opens the door now, I'll be caught eavesdropping and as far as I can tell, I'm already in enough trouble as it is. And so with a little squeak of panic, I dart across the room and throw myself onto the couch, burying my head in the cushions.

I hear the door handle turn.

"Annie?" Finnick says softly, stepping inside and shutting the door quietly behind him. I lift my head from the cushions.

"Hm?"

"How are you feeling?" He asks concernedly.

"I don't know." I say, sitting up and fixing him with a pointed glare. "Not... _right_."

His shoulders slump.

"You heard."

"I did." I confirm, folding my arms and turning my attention to the box in his hand. "You're not drugging me."

"Annie..." He begins.

"No!" I snap. "You are _not_ drugging me and I am _not_ going back out there."

He moves to sit on the sofa next to me and I leap away, pressing myself against the opposite arm. He watches me for a moment, his eyes sad.

"I'm afraid you haven't got a choice, Annie." He says eventually. "I know you think you're safe now..."

"You told me I was." I interrupt. He heaves a sigh.

"I know... but you're only safe from the _arena."_

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask suspiciously.

"It means," He says carefully. "That you have to cooperate with the Capitol in everything."

I eye him confusedly.

"I don't understand, Finnick."

He tries to shift towards me, but my breath hitches in my throat and the sound is so frightened, he stays where he is.

"Please don't make this more difficult than it has to be, Annie." He says pleadingly.

"You're not making any sense." My voice wobbles. "What aren't you telling me?"

Finnick closes his eyes.

"Annie, _please_, just trust me on this."

"On what?"

"You have to go back out there, Annie, you have to finish the recap."

Tears spring back up into my eyes.

"I _can't_."

This time when he reaches for me, I let him pull me back against him, let the tears trickle onto his shirt.

"I know," He mutters. "And I'm sorry. But your life depends on this. _Ava's_ life depends on this."

"Ava?" I go to pull back, shocked, but he wraps a strong arm around my waist, keeping me still. The inability to move panics me and I start struggling. "Finnick?" I ask anxiously, wriggling against his grasp.

He rests his head on mine.

"I'm sorry." He whispers.

And then there's a sharp jab in the back of my arm.

* * *

_..._

* * *

_Sorry it's not massively long... but it looks like Finnick's figured out a way to keep Annie safe. Wonder what a certain President will have to say about that, eh?_

_As always, thanks for reading, please review XD_

_PS __I hope Annie's 'episode' was believable enough. Poor girl..._


	29. Roses are Red

_Enjoy..._

* * *

**CHAPTER TWENTY NINE - ROSES ARE RED**

* * *

The next morning, Mags and the others tell me that I got through the rest of the recap and the crowning ceremony without further mishap.

I don't remember much of it though ... vague dream like images of me curled up and bloody in a bush, me screaming and thrashing underneath Ash, me swimming upwards towards glimmering sunlight.

And then, of course, there's the other tributes. Every so often, my brain throws up a hazy image of another kid - the girl from 7 smashed to bits against rocks and trees as the huge wave hits, the boy from 10 struggling in deep water, apparently unable to swim to the surface to breathe, Sneaky Eyes surviving the wave, managing to stay afloat for the whole time I did... only to be sucked down into the dark drain as the water swirls away.

Faces and screams and deaths that I know will haunt my dreams forever.

Starla makes me watch the highlights of last night – the interview, my screaming fit, the complete lack of explanation to the audience. It's bizarre actually. Caesar just carries on like it never happened and when I finally get back on stage, no one mentions it.

You can tell I'm completely off my head on drugs though. When everyone stands to listen to the anthem, I sway unsteadily on my feet. When Caesar asks me something, I giggle and then completely forget what I'm talking about. When President Snow puts the golden crown on my head, I blink at him like I've no idea who the heck he is.

At the end of the highlights, different audience members are interviewed. I sit curled up in a ball on the sofa, listening as at least ten people pronounce me utterly insane.

Seated comfortingly next to me, Mags snorts as one particularly strange looking man announces to the camera that I'm 'one crazy chick'.

"That's rich..." She says scathingly. "Coming from a man with _green_ skin."

"He's right, though." I mutter, burying my face in my knees. "I think I'm going crazy."

Mags rubs my a soothing hand up my back.

"It'll get better when you're home." She tells me gently. "Think of Ava."

Ava. My Grandmother. The person who means more to me than anyone else in the whole world.

I'm going home soon and everything will be fine, I try to tell myself, everything will get better...

But it won't, I know it.

Because when I get back, I'll have to face Ethan's family. And after that, I'll have to face the families of every kid in that arena on the Victory Tour. And after _that_, I'll have to face the families of _next _year's District 4 tributes _and_ I'll have to watch two more kids go through everything I've just been through... and I won't be able to do a single thing about it.

I'm trapped forever in a web of nightmares, memories and future Games, right up till the moment I die.

The elevator doors suddenly ping open and I look up to see Finnick step through, his eyes anxious and his mouth set into a hard line.

"Annie." He says in a slightly strangled voice. "President Snow wants to see you."

* * *

_..._

* * *

My heart has never beat so fast.

Nothing in the arena – no tribute, no mutt, no trap – compares to this man. No terror I have ever felt compares to the terror I'm feeling right now, as I stand, incredibly alone and incredibly vulnerable, in front of these huge, golden gilded, double doors.

On Finnick's orders, Starla has put me in a knee length cream dress with delicate lace sleeves. My hair is loose and pulled back from my face with a simple cream headband and I've never appeared more child-like in my whole life. I briefly wonder what kind of look they're aiming for... Maybe Snow likes his victors vulnerable.

My stomach turns, but biting back the fear, I lift my hand and knock.

"Come in." He calls, his voice as smooth as syrup, from within.

I swallow hard and push gently on the door. It opens without a sound and I step inside.

The room is warm and sunny and _fragrant_. I look around me, taking a few hesitant steps forwards, and realise I'm in a huge greenhouse. Greenery and flowers – mostly roses – surround me, thorny vines weaving their way up the ornate white metal of the balcony that runs all the way around the room. Somewhere amongst the dense plants and trees, a fountain gurgles and bubbles like a laughing child.

It's unexpected, to say the least.

"Welcome, Miss Cresta."

I turn to see President Snow beaming down at me from the balcony above the door. I offer him a smile and he chuckles.

"Go, child." He gestures forwards. "Meet me on the patio."

I make my way slowly through the greenery – my lace ballet pumps barely making a sound on the pave stones – until the plants start to recede and the pathway becomes a small terrace, hidden away amongst roses and trees. A spiral staircase climbs upwards from the centre, small walkways high above the garden joining it with the outer balcony.

I wait at the edge, my hands knotting anxiously together in front of me, watching as President Snow ambles idly across the walkway and down the staircase. He reaches the bottom and smiles at me.

"So, Miss Annie Cresta." He says, looking me up and down. "We meet at last."

I swallow.

"I thought... I thought we'd already met."

He laughs lightly.

"Ah yes. We have." His cold eyes – unnervingly at odds with his warm smile – meet mine and I have to fight the urge to recoil. "But am I right in suggesting, Miss Cresta," He continues. "That you do not remember our first meeting?" I bite my lip and he laughs again. "Not to worry, my dear. I am well aware Benedict supplied you with drugs." I look down, not entirely sure how to respond. "Come, come." Snow gestures towards the two chairs set out on either side of a small white metal table on the other side of the patio. "Let us sit."

I follow him and gingerly seat myself on the ornate metal chair. Snow sits opposite me, crossing his suited legs and folding his hands in his lap.

Although I am almost afraid to stare too closely, I can't help but study him, morbidly fascinated. He's a small, thin man and looks like he could probably blow away at the barest breath of wind. His skin is so pale it looks like he might bleed white if you cut him, and his hair is the colour of the chalky cliffs that surrounded the arena. A single white rose – the very symbol of purity and flawlessness – is pinned to his lapel.

He looks like a fragile, gentle little man. Nothing like the monster I know he is.

Except for... except for his _eyes_. They are pale and unnatural – his irises almost transparent – and they're as cold and as calculating as a snake's.

As I'm thinking this, those awful little snake eyes meet mine and I flinch.

"How are you faring, Miss Cresta?" President Snow asks me, leaning back in his seat and regarding me speculatively.

He smells of blood and roses.

"Very well, thank you, sir." I reply faintly, blinking a little. He lets out a small chuckle.

"I would prefer it if you did not lie to me, my dear. Your little performance last night does not lead me to believe you are 'very well, thank you'."

I eye him nervously.

"Performance?"

He meets my eyes with a level stare.

"Was that not what it was? A performance?"

My heart is thudding like a drum in my chest and it takes me a few seconds to work up the saliva to speak.

"No." I manage eventually. "I didn't... I didn't mean for it to happen."

"Oh?" Snow inquires. My bottom lip begins to tremble.

"I just... I just couldn't... _Ethan_...I saw him..." Tears collect in the corners of my eyes. "I'm sorry." I whisper. "I truly am."

Snow reaches in his pocket and after pulling out a white handkerchief, hands it to me. I mumble my thanks, dabbing at my eyes.

After a minute or so, he speaks.

"The whole country believes you to be insane." He says, his voice gentle again.

I close my eyes.

"I know." I say softly.

"Your mentors think you are insane too."

"I know." I say again, my voice pained.

"Do _you_ think you are insane, Miss Cresta?"

My eyes flutter open and I see him watching me carefully.

"I don't know." I say, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze. "I'm not sure what insanity is supposed to feel like."

A small chuckle bubbles through his strangely plump lips.

"Interesting answer, my dear." And then his eyes flicker sideways and he raises his hand. "I do believe it is time for some tea."

He barely twitches his fingers and a red haired, red uniformed young woman appears from the greenery, carrying a tray. Without a word, she sets a white china teapot onto the table, along with two dainty teacups and saucers and a small china pot. I watch her silently as she gives me and Snow a deferential nod and backs away, the tray still in her hands.

Snow pours tea and milk into both of the cups and then looks towards me.

"Sugar, Miss Cresta?" I shake my head once. "I'm afraid I have two." He tells me with a smile, spooning sugar into his drink. "I've always had a fondness for something sweet." He chuckles quietly to himself for a moment, before pushing my drink towards me. "There you go, my dear."

I manage a faint smile.

"Thank you."

We sit in silence for a few minutes, the only sound the steady clink of his spoon against the china as he stirs his tea.

Eventually, though, he speaks again.

"You're what I like to call an accidental victor, Miss Cresta." He says. I blink at him, confusedly.

"A what?" And then I blush. "Uh.. I mean... excuse me?"

Snow laughs.

"An _accidental_ victor."

"What does that mean?" I ask.

"It means," He says, taking a sip of his tea. "That you were never meant to win those Games."

I look down at my hands.

"Oh."

"You were not the favourite to win." He continues. "You were not bloodthirsty, or cruel, or even especially talented... but then, Benedict flooded that arena, and you – the poor little girl driven mad by her District partner's death – were the only survivor." I hear his voice harden. "Look at me, Miss Cresta."

I lift my head slowly and meet those awful eyes.

"Your victory was an accident," He continues. "The result of a very poor choice on the behalf of the Gamemakers. You were never meant to win and you are not how a victor should be." He runs his finger idly around the rim of his teacup, his eyes still on mine. "Your mind was too weak to withstand the arena. You, _Annie_," My first name sounds all wrong on his lips. "Are too weak."

"I- I..." I begin anxiously but he cuts me off.

"You have disappointed me greatly, Miss Cresta. I had high hopes for this year's victor."

I swallow, feeling slightly panicked.

"I don't... I don't understand."

His lips curl upwards in a smile.

"Has Finnick not told you?"

"Told me what?" My voice cracks a little.

He stands suddenly and turns, starting towards one of the little pathways leading from the patio. He crooks a finger over his shoulder and I take it as an order to follow him.

We walk through the greenery, Snow slowing every so often to admire his roses. After a few minutes, we come to a halt underneath an archway, covered in tangled roses and leaves. Snow reaches out and plucks a red rose – the colour of fresh blood – from it's thorny branch.

"Such a beautiful colour, don't you think?" He asks. I have to swallow against the little wave of nausea that rises as his breath washes over me.

"It's lovely." I manage.

He hands it to me and I take it from him, pretending to study it intently so I don't have to meet his gaze. I hear him chuckle softly.

"I'm assuming your charming mentor has chosen to keep you in the dark..."

I bite my lip.

"I'm not... I'm not sure."

Snow laughs again.

"Oh, my dear Miss Cresta, where do I begin?"

I don't reply. I'm assuming he doesn't want me to.

"Your mentor, Finnick Odair, is a very desirable young man, is he not?" Snow asks, turning slightly to admire a knot of rosebuds just near his head. I shrug.

"I guess so."

"Yes." Snow says musingly, his hand lifting to caress the flowers. _"Very_ desired, especially amongst the people of the Capitol."

"He does... He does get around." I say.

Snow laughs at this. He laughs so hard, his eyes turn glassy with tears.

"Oh, my dear!" He wipes the corners of his eyes once he's finished laughing. "You have much to learn."

I twist my hands together, unsure, and a little scared.

"I'm still not sure I understand."

Snow's eyes me, a smile on his lips.

"I think it's time I stopped playing Games with you, my dear."

I almost – _almost_ – laugh at the irony of his words.

"Yes?" I ask.

He lets out a long sigh of contentment.

"I have a lot of interest in the most beautiful of my victors, my dear..." He tells me. "And so one day, I struck upon an idea. An idea to keep my people happy, and my victors submissive."

I blink at him.

"I don't understand..."

"Mr Odair provides a _service_ for the people of the Capitol." Snow grins at me. "He gets paid handsomely for his work so long as he leaves his clientèle _satisfied."_

I frown.

"I still don't... I don't..." He quirks a devilish brow and then it clicks. Snow's words. Benedict telling Finnick how being beautiful as a victor is dangerous. Finnick's own popularity in the Capitol...

It all suddenly makes sense. And I suddenly want to throw up.

"Why does he do it?" I whisper, my mouth turning dry.

Snow leans towards me, his bloody breath hot on my face.

"Because," He smirks. "I tell him to."

My gaze flickers up to meet his, my chest tightening anxiously. I feel like I might vomit, but I have to ask. I have to know.

"What makes him do as you say?"

Snow cackles wickedly.

"Finnick's parents are _dead_." He says with a cruel smile. "That's what happens when victors resist."

"Finnick resisted?" I ask, my voice thick.

"At first." Snow replies. "But not for long. He still has his sister to look out for, after all."

I suddenly think of Ava. Does Snow want me to...? Will I have to...? Will he kill her if I don't?

The thought makes me weak at the knees.

"You want me to be a...?" I whisper. Snow's eyes darken.

"No."

"No?" I echo confusedly.

"The Capitol people do not want a girl who suffers from insanity." He says, and although this should be what I want to hear, there's something ominous, something terrifying in his tone. But then he smiles at me, and that's somehow even worse. "We do have _some_ morals, my dear." He says lightly.

I must look completely baffled because he chuckles at me.

"You are free, Miss Cresta. Your _services _will not be required."

"They won't?" I ask, my voice barely audible.

"No, my dear." He suddenly gestures back down the pathway. "You may go, now, Miss Cresta."

Slightly dazed and bewildered, I start slowly across the pave stones. As I reach a bend, just before I disappear into the greenery, Snow's voice slithers towards me like a snake.

"Oh and Miss Cresta?"

I turn, realising my hands are shaking. Still underneath the rose archway, President Snow smiles, a smile so cold it threatens to freeze my blood.

"Y- yes?" I stutter.

His eyes narrow, but the smile remains in tact.

"Freedom comes at a price, my dear... I do hope you remember that."

* * *

_..._

* * *

_But what price will it be? Ooh that Snow is an evil beast. He was fun to write though. He's kind of insane._

_I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please please review. Let me know what you think._

_Loves x_


	30. The Blame Game

_Well, it's been too long. Apologies my lovelies, I've had a history exam and severe writer's block to contend with. (Seriously, this is the fourth completely new draft of this chapter). So yeah, thanks for your patience._

_Basically, this is a chapter of explanations. Everything's out in the open now. Got a nice little mix of fluff and angst for you, so I hope you like it. Please review of course xx_

_PS Thanks to all those who have been reviewing - especially my serial reviewers, you know who you are ;) ahaha but seriously, thank you guys. I really appreciate the support for this fic and my others._

* * *

**CHAPTER THIRTY - THE BLAME GAME**

* * *

I sit in the back of the car, staring blindly out of the tinted windows as the Capitol passes me by.

I'm numb. Completely so. I just don't know what to think. I don't know what to feel.

I should be happy: Snow can't use my body, I won't have to live a life like Finnick's, I'm going home tonight, back to District 4 where I'll live happily ever after in Victor's Village with Ava...won't I?

I look down at my hands and realise they're trembling.

_Freedom comes at a price._

A price.

What more do I have to lose before Snow is satisfied? What more will he take from me before he decides my debt is repaid? I've already lost my mind, isn't that enough?

I thought the Hunger Games ended the moment I heard that final cannon, but I was wrong, and Finnick was right. They'll never end, I realise that now.

My driver puts the radio on. There's an interview airing between President Snow and Caesar Flickerman and they're discussing... they're discussing _me_. I freeze up, eyes wide, lips parted in silent surprise.

The driver meets my eyes in the rear-view mirror and then very deliberately reaches out to turn up the volume.

"I trust you watched the interviews with the audience members after the recap?" Flickerman asks the President jovially.

"I did." Snow replies gravely and I wince. Is this... _live_?

"Do you agree with them, then? Do you think Annie Cresta is mad?"

"I suppose I have no choice but to believe so." Snow says with a reluctant sigh. "It's a great shame."

"It is." Flickerman agrees. "But still, not all our victors are able to cope with the strain of their victory, can they?"

Snow chuckles gently.

"No, no, and her victory came about quite by chance, did it not?"

"Oh yes." Flickerman replies. "She was incredibly lucky. The amount of times her life was saved."

I almost snort. They think I'm _lucky_. Lucky isn't witnessing the deaths of innocent kids first hand. Lucky isn't being drenched in blood as you watch your friend being decapitated. Lucky isn't seeing the most awful moments of your life replayed over and over in vivid detail...

Something sharp slices through my hand and I jump, my breath hissing through my teeth. I look down to see I'm still clutching the rose Snow gave me so hard, some of its thorns are now embedded in my palm. I tear the rose from my hand, flinching as it carves scratches across my skin.

Blood beads on its leaves.

With a little cry of frustration, I lob the rose across the car. It hits the window and lands in a crumpled, wilted heap on the floor. My right palm is a mess of shallow lacerations and wincing slightly, I wipe my bloody hand on the seat.

I swear the driver must have turned up the volume again, because when Snow speaks, it's so loud it's almost like he's sitting next to me.

"It isn't often we have a victor who has not earned their victory." He says ominously, his voice reverberating through the car.

I still, my heart beating so hard I can feel it strumming through every inch of my body.

There is a small silence and then Flickerman gives an awkward cough.

"Ah well, um, do you think she can be helped, President? Do you think we can help her get better?"

Snow sighs again.

"I'm afraid not, Caesar." He says sadly. _Feigned_ sadness, I think bitterly. "I spoke with Finnick Odair last night," He continues. "And he seems to think she is irreparable."

I slump back into my seat.

Irreparable. _Finnick_ said I was irreparable.

Even though a part of me knows that he's been doing this to save me, that he guessed Snow would want to force me into his harem of victors, that he and Benedict realised the only way to avoid that was by declaring me insane, I can't help but feel a twinge of resentment.

How can I ever get better if no one believes I can? Because there _is_ something wrong with me, I know. My memories are too vivid, too _real_. I'm not insane, but last night, before he _drugged_ me (I narrow my eyes slightly) Finnick hit the nail on the head.

I'm not right.

I listen detachedly as Snow and Flickerman converse a little more about me, about the Games in general, about the preparations already underway for the victory tour...

"Well, I'd like to thank you, sir." Caesar says eventually. "For taking some time out of your schedule to talk to us today."

"My pleasure." Snow replies smoothly.

There's a small crackle and a click and then Flickerman speaks again.

"Well, my good people of the Capitol, that was our President, Coriolanus Snow, speaking to us live from his garden in the Presidential mansion. Make sure you stay tuned, Ladies and Gentlemen," He continues. "Because in just under an hour's time, we'll be chatting with this year's victor herself, Annie Cresta, to see what she's got to say about her victory and the disturbing disorder she seems to be suffering from."

My lips twist bitterly. Disturbing disorder, indeed. Somehow, they're is blaming me for this. To Snow and the Capitol, it's not the Games that are at fault, it's me.

And that's how I know Snow will find some other way to punish me.

* * *

_..._

* * *

About ten or fifteen minutes later, the car comes to a halt outside the training centre. A group of peacekeepers appear and one of them opens the door to help me out. I stumble along after them, squinting in the bright sunlight.

In my cream dress, I'm painfully obvious amongst the gaudy colours of the Capitol, and people in the streets stop and stare at me. Some whisper behind their hands, some point, most just watch me stagger up the walkway towards the training centre.

_There's the mad girl_, I imagine them saying and my cheeks burn.

And then I'm out of the sunlight, beneath the balconies, and the peacekeepers are leading me through the double doors into the centre's lobby. As I step inside, I hear someone call my name and look up to see Violet Lovedaie hurrying briskly towards me, her heels tapping loudly on the marble floor. She looks mildly flustered.

"You've been such a long time!" She says, taking my arm and nearly yanking me across the foyer. "Your interview is in forty minutes!" She pauses as we arrive in front of the elevator. "Did Snow ask you about..." And here she lowers her voice embarrassedly. "Your _condition_?" I nod silently, watching with vague interest as she negotiates calling the elevator with those ridiculous nails. Eventually, she succeeds and then she turns back, regarding me curiously. "And what did he say?"

"He told me that I was never meant to win the Games." I reply flatly. I see Violet's eyes widen slightly but before she can speak, a familiar voice echoes across the lobby.

"Annie!" Finnick jogs across the room to join us, his expression anxious.

"Why Finnick," Violet says, surprise apparent in her voice. "I thought you were already in the studio."

"I was." He says distractedly, his eyes raking over me. "But I needed to speak to Annie." He glances towards my escort. "You go, Violet, I'll get her ready."

"Fine." She says, stepping out of the lift. "But make sure she's down there in half an hour. The director needs to prep her." He nods. "I mean it, Odair," She continues severely. "If she's late, you're in big trouble."

"Fine." He groans. "She'll be ready."

With a final nod, Violet flounces off the way Finnick came, heading, I assume, back to the studio. We both watch as she disappears through the doors and then the foyer is empty.

There is a silence.

"Annie," Finnick whispers eventually. "Are you okay?"

I manage a small nod and then Finnick seizes my arm and drags me through the open elevator doors. As soon as they slide shut, he grabs my arms with both hands, drawing me towards him and ducking his head so we're eye to eye.

"Annie." He says urgently. "What did he say to you?"

I stare at him mutely.

Oh Finnick. How wrong have I been about him? All this time, I thought he enjoyed his life as the Capitol's favourite victor; I thought it was a life he'd chosen. All the things he's had to endure for the past five years. The humiliation of being sold to the highest bidders. The grief of losing his parents. The fear for the rest of his family... But he thinks I'm insane and he _drugged_ me.

When I don't answer him, Finnick gives me a little shake.

"Damn it, Annie!" He says frustratedly. "Talk to me!" I open my mouth to speak, to reassure him in some way, but I can't find my voice. "Annie," Finnick's eyes search mine frantically and I can see I'm genuinely frightening him. "Annie, what did he say?"

When I still don't answer, he grabs my face, yanking me even closer, his fingers pressing painfully into my jaw as he examines my mouth.

"What the hell, Finnick?" I snap, jerking away from him, flinging myself backwards against the far wall of the elevator.

He sags in relief.

"Thank god." He says. "I thought they'd cut out your tongue or something."

I stare at him, rubbing my jaw and wincing slightly. Bloody hell, he's got a strong grip.

"You what?" I ask with a frown.

He shakes his head.

"Forget it. I'm sorry for hurting you." He starts towards me but I lift my hands, forming a barrier in between us.

"Don't touch me."

His face falls.

"What? Why not?" And then I don't know how, but understanding spreads slowly across his face. "He told you then." He says softly, his eyes sad.

I nod once.

"Yes." My voice is barely a whisper.

Bitterness suddenly distorts his expression.

"And now you don't want me to touch you." He says. "Because I'm disgusting."

I shake my head.

"No."

Confusion mingles his features.

"Well, then." He says, still standing over me, his eyebrows furrowed. "What's wrong?"

I stare up at him for a minute. Finnick cares about me, I know, but why didn't he tell me what Snow would want? Why didn't he warn me?

I don't understand him. I don't understand any of this.

"Why didn't you tell me, Finnick?" I ask.

He doesn't reply for a moment, only reaches out silently and presses the button for level 4.

"I tried..." He says hesitantly as the lift moves slowly upwards. "I tried, but I couldn't do it, Annie. I couldn't find the words. I wanted to protect you. I knew Snow would want you. I knew you'd end up like me."

"Is that what this whole insanity thing is about?" I whisper. "Did you guess Snow couldn't use me if I went completely crazy?"

"It was Benedict's idea." He says, his shoulders drooping a little. "After you screamed, he decided it would be better for all of us if you went insane."

"All of us?" I echo. His smile holds no humour.

"He thought it would let him off the hook for wrecking the Games with that flood. It won't, I'm telling you now; Benedict's days are numbered."

"And me?" I ask. "Do you really think I'm crazy? That I'm irreparable?"

He closes his eyes briefly.

"You heard the radio broadcast, then?"

"Yes." I mutter, bring my arms up to wrap protectively around my stomach. "And I still haven't forgiven you for drugging me last night."

I hear him sigh.

"I'm sorry about that, Annie." He whispers. "For drugging you. For using your scream to make out you're insane. I just, I just couldn't think of any other way to protect you from Snow."

I stare at the floor. I shouldn't blame him. None of this is his fault. And if it wasn't for Finnick convincing the whole Capitol I'm crazy, Snow would be drawing up my list of clients right this very minute.

"Snow can only sell us if there's a demand." Finnick continues, his voice tense. "There would have been demand for you, Annie, I had plenty of offers before the Games." He lets out a noise of frustration, turning away, his fists clenched. "I should have warned you." He growls at the opposite wall. "I should have told you before the Games even started, but I didn't want you to give up. I wanted you to win."

"You wanted a winner?" I ask dully. He turns on me, darting forward to grab my arms again.

"I wanted _you_ to win." He says desperately, his face inches from mine. "I didn't think you could, but I hoped you would... I hoped you would _so much_."

I stare at him, my eyes wide.

We're too close, far too close. I can feel the heat radiating from his body, feel his breath on my lips. His beautiful green eyes are intense, so intense it hurts me to look at them. But I can't look away. He has me hypnotised.

His hand lifts very slowly to touch my cheek. Just the lightest touch, a brush of a thumb, as gentle as the landing of a butterfly, but my breath hitches in my throat nonetheless.

The elevator lets out a little ping and then the doors slide open. Both of us ignore it.

"I don't..." I whisper eventually, strangely breathless. "I don't have to live like you."

Relief passes across his features.

"You don't?" He breathes. I shake my head.

"No."

"But I thought," He lets out a disbelieving breath, his hand leaving my face. "I thought it hadn't worked..."

"He told me the Capitol didn't want someone who's insane." I mutter, breaking his gaze and looking downwards. Anxiety twists in my stomach. "I don't think he believes I'm really crazy, though."

"It doesn't matter if he doesn't believe you, Annie." Finnick says softly. "If no one will pay for you, he can't use you."

Tears burn in my eyes and I'm not entirely sure why.

"He told me freedom comes at a price, Finnick." I say, my voice wobbling and my eyes flickering back up to meet his. "What will he do?" I ask miserably. "What will he do to me?"

Finnick straightens a little and reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

"He can't hurt you." He tells me. "You're still a victor. I've spoken to people here, they all love you because you're so tragic." I stare at him, hurt, and he winces. "Oh god, that came out wrong." He reaches for both of my hands and I realise I'm shaking. "What I meant," He says quietly. "Is that they pity you, Annie, they won't like it if you get hurt."

Frustration ripples inside of me and my eyes well up with tears. I don't want the Capitol's _pity_.

"What about Ava?" I ask.

"Ava will be fine." He tells me.

"You promise?" I ask with – I can't help it – a little sniffle.

"You know I can't make promises like that, Annie." He says in a pained voice. "But Snow has no reason to hurt your Grandmother."

My bottom lip trembles and a few tears trickle down my cheeks.

"He told me about your parents, Finnick. He told me he killed them."

I see him tense, his jaw tightening, his eyes closing briefly. He is silent for a minute. And then he lets go of one of my hands to pull me gently through the elevator doors into the apartment.

"Come on." He says. "I need to get you ready for your interview."

Panic constricts in my chest and I resist, tugging my hand from his.

"I can't." I say, in a somewhat strangled voice. "I can't do it again, Finnick. Please don't make me."

He turns back and pulls me towards him, taking my face in his hands.

"Annie, look at me." I reluctantly meet his eyes. "Right," He says, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. "You don't have to worry, okay? They said I can sit next to you the whole time. I won't let anything happen to you, Annie, I promise." I let out a little sniffle and he sighs softly. "And then after the interview, we can get on that train and we'll all go home, back to District 4. Just remember that, okay?" I nod tearfully and he gives me a small smile. "Come on, then."

He lets go of my face and takes my hand instead, leading me across the living room, towards my room. I follow him silently. I just have to get through the interview. Another few hours and I can go home. I can see Ava. I can _move on_.

And then something suddenly strikes me.

"Wait." I say tugging my hand from Finnick's grasp, and he's forced to stop, turning back to eye me questioningly.

"What?"

"If you sit with me in the interview," I say with an embarrassed sniff. "Everyone will think... everything will think we're." I gesture awkwardly between us. "We're... you know."

He nods.

"Yes, I know."

My eyebrows crease confusedly.

"Don't you _mind_?"

He chuckles softly.

"Well, considering I encouraged that rumour whilst you were in the arena, I can't really, can I?"

I stare at him with wide eyes.

"So you _were_ trying to set something up." I say, pursing my lips. "I thought as much."

"Well, the audience seemed to like it." He replies, and then he smirks, his eyes twinkling. "You did a good job keeping it going in the arena, anyway." He carries on teasingly. "All those pretty blushes."

Of course, my cheeks turn pink at that.

"Ethan started it." I say sadly, remembering his knowing glances, all purposefully set up for the cameras.

Finnick nods.

"He was a smart kid, wasn't he?" His eyes lock on mine, his expression gentle. "He cared about you too, Annie." He says. "He'd be glad you won."

"His sister won't." I point out. Finnick reaches for my hand again.

"I know." He says softly, and there's so much pain in his eyes I have to look away. "But after every Games, there are always twenty three grieving families. You can't blame yourself, okay? Ethan wouldn't have wanted you to."

I feel my jaw set and my eyes harden.

"I already know who to blame." I say.

He doesn't answer me and we both stand silently for a moment, and then his hand reaches up to brush my arm.

"Annie..." He begins.

But then the elevator doors slide open and he releases my hand and drops his other arm, straightening to greet our visitor. I turn.

"Annie!" Starla cries, bounding over to us, her curls bobbing. "You're not dressed!" I fumble for an explanation, but luckily, it's not me she's blaming. "Finnick." She says accusingly. "Violet asked you to do _one_ thing..."

He gives her his most charming smile.

"We were just on our way."

"Uh huh?" Her eyebrows raise, unimpressed. "You do know it's going to take a little longer than ten minutes to get her ready?"

Finnick glances at his watch and swears. His eyes lift to meet hers imploringly.

"I didn't realise it was so late, Star."

She rolls her eyes.

"Enough with the puppy dog looks. Make yourself useful and go tell Caesar he's got to interview you first. That'll give us an extra ten minutes or so."

Finnick nods and starts towards the elevator.

"Wait, Finnick." I call after him, suddenly anxious. He pauses, turning back questioningly. "What do I say? I mean, you're going to be sitting next to me. What if Caesar asks me about," I falter. "About _us_?"

He frowns thoughtfully.

"Don't say anything for definite. The Capitol people prefer rumours. We'll just tell them you weren't feeling very well and needed me there for support."

Although it's true – I _do_ need him there – I still blanch at how weak and pathetic everyone must think I am. I'm the poor little mad victor, too weak to cope with her memories, too weak to cope with answering a few questions without her mentor there to hold her hand... My expression must show it all, because Finnick covers the few paces between us to stand in front of me again. When I duck my head, he takes my face in his hands again, lifting it gently so I have to look at him.

"I know you don't like it, Annie," He says. "But we've got to go with this. You've got to convince Snow he made the right choice."

My bottom lip juts out miserably.

"I know. I just, I just... I mean I'm not _insane_. Everyone back home must think..."

Finnick cuts me off.

"It doesn't matter what everyone back home thinks." He says. "They don't know anything, Annie. The Capitol people have already adopted you as their poor damaged victor, and we've got to keep that going." When I nod slowly, he rubs a gentle thumb across my cheek. "I'll be right there, beside you and I won't let him ask you anything awful, I promise." I offer him a little half smile and he straightens."Good." He says, brushing a stray hair back from my face. "Now off you go. Starla's getting impatient."

* * *

_..._

* * *

_Riiight, so this chapter didn't make it as far as I wanted, but Annie will be back in district 4 by the end of the next chapter. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it, please review xx_


	31. Unexpected Realisations

_I must apologise for the delay, everyone, but exams are over now and I hope to have more time to write :) Anyway, I hope this chapter is worth the wait..._

_Enjoy xx_

_Just a note: Rayl and Olive are the morphlings from district 6. Suzanne Collins never named them but in this chapter, Finnick mentions them in passing and he'd obviously know what they're called, so yeah, I gave them names._

* * *

**CHAPTER THIRTY ONE - UNEXPECTED REALISATIONS**

* * *

True to his word, Finnick sits beside me for the whole duration of the interview and deflects any uncomfortable questions. Still, I'm so nervous and panicky I'm shaking and about half way through, when Caesar asks me about Ethan, I end up nearly hysterical, on the verge of a flashback. They have to cut to clips from the Games whilst Mags and Finnick talk me down.

The director – a thin man dressed in a black suit and spangly gold shirt, holding a clipboard – isn't pleased to say the least.

Caesar is as jovial and as sympathetic as ever and having Finnick next to me helps, but the interview drags. The endless questions, the images I'd rather forget played over and _over_, Caesar turning horrific moments, horrific deaths into a _joke_.

Eventually, though, after what feels like an eternity, the director and his crew are satisfied they've got enough out of me and I'm allowed to leave.

Mags, Finnick and I return to our apartment to find the others – Starla, Austin, Violet and my prep team – waiting to say goodbye. Starla, of course, is weeping uncontrollably.

"Oh Annie." She flings her arms around my neck. "I'm going to miss you!"

I smile into her shoulder, hugging her tentatively back, her fluffy hair tickling my nose

"I'll miss you too, Starla." I say and I'm faintly surprised to realise I will. I can safely say that the Games have been the worst experience of my whole life and I hate the Capitol with my whole heart, but my stylists have made me realise that there are some good people here. Starla can't help where she was born and I know she means well, even if she is a bit thoughtless at times.

She pulls away, tears trickling down her sparkly cheeks, and Austin steps forward to say goodbye. He wraps his arms around my waist and I tuck my head into his shoulder.

"You deserved to win." He says softly into my ear. "Don't forget that."

I pull back and give him a watery smile.

"Thanks, Austin."

He grins back and then lets go, ruffling my hair affectionately.

"See you next year, then."

My smile wobbles, but I nod.

"Next year." I echo.

The prep team all hug me, squealing about how exciting it's been to finally prep a victor, and then Violet asks if I'm ready to go. She'll be accompanying us back to 4, finally fulfilling her role as escort.

At least until the victory tour anyway.

As we make our way to the station just outside the training centre, Mags slips her hand through mine. I'm glad of her support, because the moment we step onto the platform, we're mobbed by flashing cameras and shouting voices.

"What's it like to be insane?" "Are you and Finnick together?" "Will you recover?" "Annie, give us a smile!"

_Annie, Annie, Annie, Annie. _All of them wanting a piece of me, all of them revelling in my distress.

I flinch away, pressing closer to Mags for support.

And then hands grab me from all directions, shoving me forwards into the mass of yelling people. I duck my head as we tunnel through the baying crowd, my hands lifting to protect my face. If I had more hands, I'd put them over my ears too. It's too bright and too loud and I can't _breathe_.

Mags' hand slips from my grasp and growing panicked, I look wildly around for her or Finnick, or even Violet. But I can't see anything – just shadows and flashes and purple splotches.

I begin to hyperventilate but then someone seizes my waist from behind and lifts me up through the open doors into the train carriage.

I turn – I don't know why, maybe for a last glimpse of the Capitol, maybe to reassure myself that I'm actually _leaving – _and hesitate, a movement in the window of the fourth floor catching my attention. My eyes focus and I realise someone is standing there, a shadowy figure partly obscured by the curtains. I lift my hand to shield my eyes from the glare of the sun as I squint up at them.

The figure gives me a casual wave. I almost – _almost_ – wave back, but it's then that the figure pulls back the curtain and steps into the sunlight and my breath hitches in my throat

Because there – standing in the room that used to be _mine_ – is President Snow.

His lips curl upwards into a very satisfied smile, his hand still raised in a friendly wave, his skin and his hair so pale he could be a ghost.

My heart judders because his message is clear.

_You will never escape me._

* * *

_..._

* * *

I spend most of the train journey locked in the bathroom, sat on the floor, my forehead leant against the cool porcelain of the sink. Every so often, someone comes by to check I'm alright. I shout through the door that I'm fine, but they all know I'm not.

I'm sick of crying. I'm sick of being scared.

I thought the winner of the Games was the lucky one. Now I'm not so sure.

"Annie?" Finnick's voice drifts through the door. I lift my head.

"I'm not coming out."

There's a pause.

"Are you alright?" He asks.

"What do you think?" I snap. I remember replying the exact same way, back on the train heading to the Capitol. God, it feels like centuries ago.

"I think you need to come out," Finnick says softly. "You're not going to feel any better locked away in here."

I let out a cry of frustration.

"I'll _never_ feel any better anyway!"

Finnick doesn't reply for a minute, and when he does, his voice is pained.

"Please Annie," He whispers. "Please come out."

My head droops. I've never felt so utterly exhausted.

"Annie?"

"Give me a second." I reply, heaving myself slowly to my feet. A quick glance in the mirror lets me know I look as horrendous as I feel – bloodshot eyes, pink marks across my forehead where I've been leaning on the sink, sad chapped lips – and in a vague attempt to hide how messed up I'm feeling, I splash some cold water across my face.

When I unlock and open the door though, Finnick isn't fooled.

"How are you feeling?" He asks softly and I shrug.

"Okay."

His eyes squint up concernedly but he doesn't push it any further, reaching out instead to take my hand.

"Come on," He says. "Mags is getting worried about you."

He leads me along the corridor and back into the lavish main room. It's the same room I sat in a few weeks ago, curled up on the sofa, terrified and uncertain, listening anxiously as Finnick and Ethan made all those plans. It's almost laughable that now, even after I've won the Games, I feel even worse than I did then.

The television is on and as I walk through the small kitchenette, I hear my name.

"_Well, I disagree with you there, Caesar," _A woman with a sharp black bob and a lot of green jewellery is saying._ "I think Annie's descent into madness began before Ethan's death."_

I stop still, my eyes snapping towards the screen. Finnick fumbles for the remote.

"I meant to turn it off before..."

"No, wait." I interrupt. "I want to hear this."

"You what?" Finnick looks at me in astonishment.

"I want to hear about my descent into madness." I reply, my voice sounding odd even to myself. I move around him to sit next to Mags in the middle the sofa and she eyes me anxiously.

"I don't think that's a very good idea." She says quietly. I don't know if it is, either, but still, if I'm going to be psychoanalysed I might as well hear what they have to say. Maybe – and this is very weak maybe indeed – it'll help.

"I'm fine." I shrug.

On screen, the woman with the black bob is still talking.

"_Just look at her reaction to every death." _She points behind them as split screens mounted across the wall play my various expressions from during the Games. _"The nightmares after the girl from 11 died. The numbness and inability to react after Preese's death. The tears after she herself killed Jasmine." _The woman waves her hand dismissively._ "I think she was too weak to cope with death, and all this guilt and pain built up until the moment Ethan died. After that, she was insensible."_

"_She wasn't weak, Gaia." _Another woman on the panel interjects quietly. I blink at the screen, my lips parting a little in surprise._"There were plenty of times where she showed great bravery and a strong sense of self preservation. __Even after Ethan's death. During the flood, for example. The fact that she was the only tribute to think of tying herself to a tree proves that."_

"Who are they?" I ask Mags in a low voice.

"Gaia Menes and Felicity Anselm." She replies carefully. "They're psychiatrists."

I swallow.

"Oh."

"_She won by fluke."_ Gaia Menes continues superciliously. _"The amount of times she nearly died and was saved by coincidence or the actions of another."_

"_She was lucky, then, but not weak." _Felicity Anselm argues._ "She showed great presence of mind, great compassion. Should we not laud her for that?"_

Menes rolls her eyes.

"_Don't be so sentimental. Victors are supposed to be the strongest, the toughest tribute. The fact that she turns half hysterical any time someone mentions her district partner only serves to prove she is neither."_

I watch them arguing over my mental state with a strange sense of detachment. Is this girl they're talking about a poor excuse of a victor or not? The arguments for both sides are pretty convincing. Still, it's not particularly helping me feel any better... I'm well aware I didn't deserve to win, no matter what Finnick or Mags or Austin tell me.

"You can turn it off now." I say and a couple of seconds later, the television screen goes black.

"Are you okay?" Finnick asks tentatively.

"Just a little mentally unstable." I lean back into the sofa, my shoulders slumping. "Nothing new there, though."

Finnick comes to sit on my other side.

"Annie..." He begins. I cut him off.

"I'm fine." Even to my own ears, I don't sound convincing.

Neither of them reply and I close my eyes, listening to the low hum of the train, imagining miles and miles of hills and forests flying past as we speed closer and closer to district 4. I try to focus on going home and seeing Ava again, but I can't hear anything else but the words of the Gaia Menes, Silas Benedict, President Snow, Caesar Flickerman, of every other person in the whole damn _Capitol,_ resounding over and over in my mind...

_Insane. Mental. Hysterical. Deranged. _

Weak.

"They're right." I whisper eventually. "They all are. I am insane." I open my eyes, turning to look at Finnick. "Why me?" I ask desperately. "Why can't I be normal like you? Like all the other victors?"

A sad little crease appears in his forehead.

"No victors are normal, Annie." He says regretfully. "There's something wrong with all of us."

I don't quite believe him.

"Really?" I whisper.

"Really." He confirms gently. "We just show it in different ways."

"Different ways?" I echo. He nods.

"Yes. Brutus laughs. Haymitch drinks. Rayl and Olive are addicted to morphling. Enobaria is a bitch. Cashmere flirts. Gloss rarely talks." He shrugs. "I could go on."

"And you?" I ask. "What about you?"

He smiles sadly.

"I'm the serial seducer, aren't I?"

I blink at him confusedly.

"I thought you had to do that..."

He nods again.

"Yes. But you don't hear much about any of the other victors and their lovers, do you? I'm the one with the reputation. It works, though... gives me something to hide behind." He suddenly smiles, properly this time. "Mags is the only one of us not a complete mess." He continues, reaching behind me to poke her affectionately. "You keep us all sane, don't you?"

She chuckles and swats him playfully away.

"I was fortunate." She says, taking my hand. "I didn't witness much of the blood in my own Games."

"But what about the Games since?" I ask, thinking about my new role as mentor. "How do you cope? How do you not fall apart every time your tributes die?"

"You learn." She says softly, giving my hand a squeeze. "You learn to store all the bad things away right at the back of your mind and then you can find some kind of happiness. Never pick up the bottle, Annie, never turn to the needle, because it only makes it worse."

I remember the vague comfortable fuzziness of my drugged up Crowning Ceremony. I guess I understand why a lot of victors prefer to drown their sorrows with alcohol or blank them out with morphling.

"Drugs mess with your mind." Mags continues. "They twist the memories right up until you can no longer work out what's real and what's not. I've watched many of my friends over the years lose their minds to made up memories."

"I've already lost mine," I say drily. "No need to worry about that."

Finnick sighs.

"You haven't lost your mind." He says and I let out a humourless laugh.

"What? Has it just gone for a wander, then?"

Finnick wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me into him and I end up with my cheek pressed against his chest.

"You are _not_ insane." He tells me, dropping a kiss on the top of my head. "No matter what anyone says." I don't reply and he gives me a squeeze. "It'll get better, Annie, I promise."

My lips curl upwards into a little smile.

"Okay." I whisper, my eyes flickering shut.

I've never felt so safe in anyone's arms as I do in Finnick's. His warmth, the sound of his heartbeat, his _solidness_. After all the death and pain I witnessed in the arena, all the falseness and secrets of the Capitol, everything about Finnick is alive, everything about him is _real_.

He smells exactly like home, of salt, of sea, of sunshine, and as I sit there, wrapped in his arms, my cheek pressed against the warm skin across his collarbone, my stomach flutters. Not a terrified or an anxious flutter (the kind of flutters I've become accustomed to) but a flutter of something that feels suspiciously like attraction...

I go rigid in his arms.

"You okay?" He asks, leaning back a little to look down at me. I let out a nervous breath.

"Mmm."

He doesn't seem convinced

"You sure?"

I nod, just a little too frantically.

"Uh huh."

Apparently satisfied, he settles back against the sofa, his arms tightening around me. Heat crawls up my neck and I'm suddenly aware of every single place where mine and Finnick's bodies meet.

I'm unsure how to deal with this strange new reaction to his proximity – I'd all but forgotten the possibility of _desire_ in the blood and terror of those final days in the arena – and my breathing quickens as I contemplate Finnick in this new way. I've always known he was good looking, of course, and I can't deny there's been times when I've been caught in the intensity of his eyes, unable to look away...

But am I – could I _possibly_ be – attracted to him?

I tell myself I'm not, that the growing affection between the two of us – that the increased amount of touching we seem to be doing – is all just because of the Games.

But then I feel his fingers knotting gently in my hair and have to suppress a shiver.

Okay, maybe I am. Just a little.

I swallow. Hard.

Finnick must be able to sense my discomfort because I feel him shift again.

"Annie." He whispers worriedly. "What's wrong?"

Biting my lip nervously, I tilt my head back to peep up at him. His eyes are concerned but there's a something in his expression – similar to the night before the Games, similar to that breathless moment in the lift earlier today – that makes my stomach flutter again.

I lift my head from his shoulder and prop myself up on his chest. His eyes flicker towards my lips and my heart starts pounding so hard, he's got to be able to feel it, he's got to know...

"Finnick..." I begin, breathlessly.

"Do you want a drink, Annie?" Mags calls suddenly.

I snap to my senses and shoot backwards, escaping Finnick's arms and spinning round. Mags has her back to us – standing in the kitchen area at the other end of the room and lining up three mugs – but I heard the amusement in her voice. My cheeks burn as I realise she must have been watching us.

I give an awkward cough.

"Um, yes please."

She turns then and her eyes are mirthful. Oh yes, she was definitely watching.

"Tea, coffee or hot chocolate?"

"Hot chocolate, please." I reply and then I am hit by the sudden memory of Reuben grinning at me as I tried it for the first time in the arena. I sag a little.

"Finnick?" Mags asks.

"Coffee Mags, please." He replies. I feel the cushion rise a little as he stands. "I'll come and help."

I stay where I am as he walks round the back of the sofa and into the kitchenette, my cheeks still hot with embarrassment.

Why on earth didn't I just pull away? Finnick's not stupid. He's got to have understood the cause of my pink cheeks. He's got to have worked it out...

"Um, you know what?" I say hesitantly. Both of them turn to me expectantly. "I'm not really very thirsty. I just, uh, I've come over all tired." I force a sleepy smile. "Long day an' all."

"Okay, sweetheart." Mags says, concern crossing her features. "As long as you're not going to lock yourself back in the bathroom."

I shake my head.

"No. I'm fine, really. I just think I need to have a nap or something."

She nods and so I stand, making my way self consciously past the two of them, heading towards the corridor and my bedroom. I sense Finnick's eyes on me as I pass him and feel myself grow warm. I halt in the doorway and turn.

"Uh." My voice is a little strangled and I have to clear my throat. "I – uh – can you come and get me as soon as you can see the sea please? I want to see it again as soon as I can." Finnick and Mags nod and I offer them a little grateful smile. "Well, uh, see you in a bit."

"Do you need anything?" Finnick asks, his brow furrowed.

"I-I'm fine." I say, struggling to meet his eyes, feeling my cheeks grow even darker. "I'll see you later."

And then before he can answer, I turn and flee the room, hands flying to my heated cheeks, eyes watering with the confusing awkwardness of it all.

* * *

_..._

* * *

_Ahh so Annie has realised she might like LIKE Finnick after all. I hope her reaction is Annie-like. I always thought she'd be pretty anxious and kind of innocent. She likes Finnick but has no idea what to do about it._

_Did you think they might kiss? Did I tease you? Sorry. I like a bit of interrupted tension ;)_

_Stick around. Finnick might have a similar realisation XD Thanks for reading, anyway, please review. I love love love it when you tell me what you think xoxox_


	32. Paid in Full

_Another chapter for you tonight (and only a couple of days after my last update too. I'm on a roll). I feel like I should warn you. We're not at the happy ending yet._

_Please review xx_

* * *

**CHAPTER THIRTY TWO - PAID IN FULL**

* * *

I spend the next hour and a half lying flat on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. I don't sleep like I told Mags and Finnick I would. I'm not tired. Instead, I lie there, thinking; thinking about Mags and Finnick and the ocean and _Ava_.

A little smile traces my lips as I imagine her hugging me tightly. _I knew you could do it_, she'll tell me with that warm, knowing smile of hers. And then we'll live together in Victor Village, right next door to Finnick and Mags...

Finnick.

What to do about Finnick isn't exactly a problem easily solved. I know he cares about me, plus he admitted he wanted me to win and not just because I was one of his tributes either... but I'm not sure he likes me in the way I've started to realise I might like him. The note in the arena, the holding of my hand during the interview, the vague answers to the journalists' probing questions. It was all just for the sponsors, wasn't it? The truth is that when it comes to Finnick and his charm, I'm not really sure about anything.

One thing I am certain of, however, is that I need him like I need to breathe and I'll be damned if I'm going to do anything to compromise our friendship.

So what if the way his coppery hair falls about his forehead makes my stomach flutter? So what if the wicked glint in his eyes makes my spine tingle? So what if his smile makes my heart falter? Just because I'm attracted to him doesn't mean I have to _do_ anything about it. We can still be friends.

A knock on my door interrupts my thoughts and my stomach flips a little with excitement. We must be close to 4.

"Annie?" Finnick's asks tentatively. "Are you awake?"

Ignoring the extra flip my stomach turns when I hear his voice, I slide off the bed and pad over to the door, sliding the lock across and throwing it open towards me. Apparently leaning against it, Finnick nearly falls into my room.

I take a surprised step back as he regains his balance.

"Crap." He says, grabbing hold of the door post. "I thought you might still be asleep."

I can't help myself, I let out a little giggle.

"Why were you leaning on my door?"

He smirks.

"I was trying to listen for signs of movement." I snigger again and he rolls his eyes. "Laugh it up all you like, Cresta. You didn't answer me."

"I opened the door." I point out. He gives an exaggerated sigh.

"_Eventually_."

I smile at him and he smiles back. Our eyes meet and there's a faintly awkward silence. Unnerved, I fix my gaze on my boots but I sense his is still firmly on me.

"Annie..." He begins seriously.

"Are we nearly at district 4?" I interrupt brightly, jerking my head up to look at him. He pauses, apparently not wanting to drop whatever he was about to bring up, but then he sighs.

"Yes. We've crossed the border. You wanted us to come and fetch you as soon as we could see the ocean."

"You can see the ocean?" I ask eagerly, the previous awkwardness momentarily forgotten in my excitement. He nods, a little smile creeping across his lips.

"Yep," He holds out his hand. "Through the big window in the main room."

I hesitate – holding hands with him won't exactly help the confusion I'm already feeling – but then he raises a teasing eyebrow and I realise it'll be more awkward if I refuse to take his hand. We seem to be holding hands more often than not these days. And so, swallowing a little anxiously, I slip my hand through his. He gives it a squeeze, before interlocking his fingers in mine and tugging me gently along the corridor.

"Come on then." He says, softly.

I let him pull me down the hallway, back into the main room. Mags is standing at the window, but she turns as we walk in and her smile is kind. I smile back, but then my attention is caught by the faint glimmering of water in the distance.

Pulling my hand free from Finnick's, I dart over to the window, pressing my palms against the window as the ocean flashes into view again between the trees, far away on the horizon.

"The ocean." I breathe. An inexpressible sense of euphoria overtakes me as the trees slowly dissipate, allowing me to see it clearly; stretching out infinitely before me.

I never thought I'd ever see my ocean again. I never thought I'd see my towering rocky cliffs, never thought I'd feel that indescribable sense of freedom that comes from looking out over these endless waters, never thought I'd hear the cries of seagulls ever again.

Finnick joins us at the window and for a few minutes I think he and Mags are enjoying seeing our district again as well, but then I become aware that they're both watching me, matching smiles of contentment on their lips.

I lean back from the window, glancing between the two of them. There are tears in Mags' eyes.

"Welcome home, Annie," She says thickly. "Welcome home."

* * *

...

* * *

It takes us nearly half an hour to reach the town and as we pull slowly into the station, I hear the town clock chime eight. Mags hands me a navy blue coat.

"Starla sent this for you." She says, helping me into it and tugging it tightly around me. "You'll need it too, there's a storm moving inland."

I smile broadly at this. I love sea storms. As a child, I used to run outside in as little clothing as possible and dance in the rain. Ava used to feign annoyance but she loves storms as much as I do. When I got too old to strip off in the downpours, we'd sit on our veranda, watching the rain, marvelling at the lightning, feeling the thunder rumble through our bodies. It was the very definition of freedom.

As the train's engines fade into silence, various sounds take over; the yell of the station master, the scrape of the ramp being pulled into place, the scream of a seagull. I wait impatiently by the train door, anxious to breathe in the sea air, anxious to see my Grandmother again.

Eventually, though, the doors slide slowly open and the thin cool sunlight spills across my face. I stand for a moment, my eyes flickering shut, just breathing deeply, enjoying the sensation of the cold ocean breeze inside my nose. I lick my lips and find they already taste of salt.

Home. I'm _home_.

I feel a warm presence behind me and don't have to turn to know who it is. My skin tingles.

"You ready for this?" Finnick whispers in my ear.

"I think so." I reply, my eyes opening, and nervous butterflies starting in my stomach. They'll be expecting me to give a speech...

And then I feel Finnick's hand press gently into the small of my back, nudging me gently forwards and I step carefully onto the ramp, then down onto the faded red carpet laid out especially for my return. A single photographer takes pictures. It's all so different to the sprawling Capitol station and its shrieking reporters, and I revel in the tranquillity.

Finnick keeps his hand on my back as he propels me gently down the length of the platform, past the line of saluting peacekeepers, closely followed by Mags and Violet. The photographer follows us, still snapping pictures and I manage a few apprehensive smiles in his direction.

The Mayor meets us inside the dimly lit station, shifting restlessly, his hand shake oddly hesitant. He looks... pained.

I expect he's worried I'll scream again or something. I'll bet he wasn't too pleased when it became clear I was half insane. Still, a crazy victor's better than no victor.

"Arrangements have been made for you to move into Victor's village right away." He tells me carefully as we head through the station, our footsteps loud on the concrete floor.

"Where's Ava?" I ask, struggling a little to keep up with his brisk pace. I'd expected her to be in the station, waiting to greet me. His eyes slide sideways towards me.

"Shall we get the welcome speeches over first?" He asks lightly. My eyebrows furrow perplexedly but before I can question further and insist I see Ava before they make me go out in front of that crowd, the station doors open and Finnick steers me gently through, out into the town square.

It's packed with people – silent people. They stand, huddled together in thick coats and warm boots, staring wordlessly at me as the frigid wind whips across the square. I pull my own coat tighter around me and move slowly across the red carpet, following the Mayor up onto the stage – the very same stage the peacekeepers shoved me onto after Violet called my name all those weeks ago.

The Mayor takes the microphone, his voice echoing hollowly across the audience.

"This is a special day," He announces. "A very special day, indeed." He continues on about honour and glory and gratitude but I'm not really listening. I'm too busy scanning the audience for Ava's warm and welcoming face.

Instead, I meet a pair of pale green eyes and my breath catches in my throat at their familiarity... but then I focus and I realise I've locked eyes with Ethan's father. I blanch under his gaze, feeling myself curl inwards, retreating further into my huge coat. His expression becomes one of sympathy and confusion creases my brow.

I'm suddenly aware that the Mayor is staring expectantly at me and I blink a little.

"Miss Cresta?" He asks. "Would you like to say a few words?"

How about no? I'd really like to just shake my head and let them get on with it, but I know there'll be at least one camera broadcasting my arrival across Panem and it's expected of a victor to make some kind of speech.

And so I nod silently, and there's a smattering of vaguely reluctant applause as the Mayor nudges me into position. I stare down the microphone, unsure what to say, unsure what they want from me.

"Um." I flinch as my voice bursts from the speakers, crackling loudly. I lean back from the microphone a little. "I, uh, I guess I'd like to thank you all for your support." I swallow nervously. "I'm sure not many of you thought I'd be strong enough to win and you were probably right. I won by chance, I was a..." I pause for a moment. "An accidental victor. I probably don't deserve to be standing here and I know I wouldn't be if it hadn't have been for Ethan." My eyes meet Ethan's father's again and my next words are specifically for him. "He was a very special person." I say huskily, hoping Snow won't be too irritated with me. Victors don't usually mention their district partners. "He deserved to win really," I continue quickly. "And if it wasn't for his bravery, I wouldn't be standing here now. That's a fact."

I look out over the crowd again. Every face is serious. Every expression is pitying. I can't explain it, but it's like there's something I'm missing, something I should know.

It's unnerving to say the least.

"I, um, I..." I stammer, glancing around behind me, looking for Finnick, looking for a reassuring smile, but I can't see him, he's disappeared. "I, uh, I just want to say I'm glad to be back in 4," I continue hesitantly. "I'm glad to be home."

I give a little nod and step back from the microphone. There's a small applause and the Mayor, taking my place again at the podium, gives me a vague smile. Still, I'm feeling strangely unsettled and I don't listen to the rest of the Mayor's speech. I still can't see Finnick and come to think of it, I can't see Mags either.

A biting wind lifts my hair and I burrow my nose into my collar, shoving my hands into my pockets as I begin to shiver, partly through cold, partly through anxiety.

I'm growing increasingly concerned; I still haven't caught even a _glimpse_ of Ava. I know Finnick told me Snow has no reason to hurt her, but he didn't hear him tell me freedom has a price, he didn't hear the twisted satisfaction in his voice or see the ominous glint in his eyes.

Where is my Grandmother? And why haven't I been allowed to see her? The fact that I haven't been able to see her straight away – as I thought I would – is both confusing and terrifying. I shift impatiently on the stage, anxious for the Mayor's speech to end.

Finally, though, it does and the crowd begins to disperse. I half expect the Mayor to come and speak to me, but he just turns and leaves the stage via the steps on the opposite side. A little bemused, I allow myself to be herded down the steps by the peacekeepers.

"Where's my Grandmother?" I ask the one who's keeping a firm grip of my arm_, _as we reach the bottom of the stairs.

"It's not my place to say." He says vaguely, avoiding meeting my eyes. I stare at him, my lips parted in utter puzzlement. But before I can ask him what on earth he means, I spot Finnick standing near the station doors, talking quietly with Mags.

Yanking my arm from the peacekeeper's grasp, I start towards my mentor.

"Finnick!" I call as I near him and he turns. His face is pale and it suddenly feels like I'm trying to wade through honey. My step falters but I manage to reach him.

"Annie," He whispers and there's so much pain in his eyes I can't breathe. "Annie, I'm sorry."

And then somehow, I know. I know because I suspected it the moment Snow told me he'd killed Finnick's parents. I know because I suspected it all along but told myself I was wrong.

I know, because freedom comes at a price.

My vision blurs and my legs buckle. Finnick's catches me, pulling me against his warm body and wrapping strong arms around my waist, and I'm suddenly hysterical, tears streaming down my face, sobs of pain and devastation racking through my already exhausted body.

The worst has happened.

Ava's gone.

* * *

...

* * *

My old house is a burnt out shell.

I stand in front of it, staring at the mass of blackened and crumbled wood and collapsed concrete posts with an odd sense of detachment. Ashes rise up into the air at every breath of wind and dance away into the grey sky. Peacekeepers patrol the perimeter, talking quietly amongst themselves, sneaking glances at me, whilst investigators probe the edges of the ruin, their gloves hands coated in ash.

They told me the fire was started last night. A few hours after I screamed, apparently, and Finnick announced my insanity. By the time the fire fighters arrived, the house was engulfed and it was clear Ava hadn't gotten out.

They found her body early this morning.

I close my eyes. This is my fault. Ava's dead and it's all my fault.

I feel a warm hand take mine.

"I'm sorry, Annie." Finnick says softly and I flinch like a frightened animal, jerking my hand from his.

"Please." I gasp. "Please don't touch me."

I hear him let out a little sad breath.

"It's not your fault."

"It is." I whisper. "I shouldn't have screamed."

He grabs my arms, spinning me round to face him.

"Annie..." He says and his voice is agonised.

"Miss Cresta?" Someone interrupts apologetically.

I extricate myself from Finnick's grasp, turning to see the Head Peacekeeper, a stout man with bushy grey eyebrows and kind eyes. Gabe, I think his name is.

"Yes?" I say, my voice cracking.

"The body has been confirmed by DNA as Ava Cresta." He tells me gently. "You won't have to identify her."

My breath shudders through my teeth.

"Oh."

Gabe looks at me sympathetically.

"I'm very sorry for your loss, Annie." He says. I nod, my eyes drifting towards what used to be my house.

"Me too." I say.

"We've found no evidence of arson, though" He continues. "No traces of accelerant. We believe the fire started in the fireplace and grew out of control whilst your Grandmother slept."

I snap my head back to stare back at him in disbelief.

"No evidence of arson?" I ask, my voice growing high pitched. "What the hell do you mean no evidence of arson? Of _course_ it was arson! Ava would _never_ leave a fire going whilst she slept!"

"We have no evidence anyone would want to target your house, Miss Cresta." Gabe replies.

Again I am dumbfounded.

"What is wrong with you?" I cry. "I know exactly who..."

Finnick grabs my arm, pulling me back against him and pressing a warning hand against my stomach.

"What Annie is trying to say," He says, his tone firm. "Is that she would prefer it if you'd conduct a full and thorough investigation of the fire before you pronounce it an accident."

Gabe nods.

"We will, Mr Odair." His gaze flickers back towards me. "I promise you, Miss Cresta, we will look into to this as thoroughly as possible. If there is someone to blame for this tragedy, they will face retribution."

I take a deep unsteady breath. I already know who's to blame and they will never ever face retribution.

"Thank you." I say unconvincingly. I wriggle from Finnick's grasp, turning back to the burnt out ruins. "May I?" I ask and Gabe nods.

"It's all stable." He says. "Just don't go crawling under any beams."

Feeling all eyes on me, I walk slowly and deliberately towards my old house, hesitating for a moment at the beginning of the ash, but then carefully stepping into the ruins. I am not hugely hopeful of finding any of my personal belongings, but I look all the same.

The wind picks up and more ashes rise, stinging my eyes and swirling around me like dark little butterflies soaring upwards into the pale sky. The burnt floorboards groan as I step on them, and everything is a blackened mess, everything is utterly destroyed. It looks – in fact – horribly similar to the forest back in the arena after the acid rain had hit. I think of poor Jasmine and her pain.

God, I hope it was smoke inhalation that killed Ava. I hope she didn't burn.

A smudge of red a little to my right catches my eye, bright amongst the black soot. I turn, squinting a little, and my heart stops.

Because there, sitting amongst the ashes, is a deep red rose.

I crunch across the brittle debris and pick it up, my hand trembling. It's crumpled and wilted, dried blood smeared across its leaves and my eyes flutter shut as I realise I recognise it.

The shape of the petals, the five thorns, the _blood_. It's the rose Snow gave me back in his garden, the rose that left deep scratches across my hand, the rose I threw across the car and abandoned in a crumpled heap on the floor. I have no idea how he got it here – perhaps he ordered someone from the train's staff to place it here – but I am in no doubt that it's the same rose.

It's a signature. The signature to a work of art; the signature to a perfectly executed murder. If I had doubted Snow's role in the death of my Grandmother, it would be completely clear now.

Guilt and bitterness and hatred tightens in my chest, like a hand around my heart and with a tearless sob, I drop the rose onto the ground and, stamping hard on it with my heel, grind the petals viciously into the ashes.

The price of freedom, Snow? Paid in full.

* * *

…

* * *

Mags was right. There is a storm heading our way.

Standing on the wild, windy cliff top, I can see it, far out above the ocean, the dark angry clouds massing together, roaring and twisting like some kind of beast. Here on the cliffs, though, the rain is light; the droplets so small they're barely visible and more like a damp mist. It's just beginning to get dark now and I should probably go back, but I can't. I just _can't_.

I escaped the sympathetic gazes and pitying words nearly an hour ago, snapping at Finnick to leave me alone and then wandering up here by myself. I needed the space, needed the freedom of the cliff tops to think, to breathe, to cry.

_Ava's gone._

My heart wrenches every time I think of it, every time I try to acknowledge it.

_Ava's dead. _

Her only crime? Being the one person I loved. Snow killed her because it would break me even more. He can't control my body, so he takes over my mind, scarring me so deeply I will never ever heal; I will never ever forget.

If only I hadn't screamed. If only I hadn't shown my instability. If only Finnick hadn't exaggerated my insanity.

But I did, and so did he, and now Ava's gone, Ava's _dead_ and I can never forgive myself.

I stare out at the ocean; once blue and shimmering like a thousand diamonds, now grey and dark and _raging_. I edge closer to the grassy cliff edge and the jagged rocks far below come into view. The water is white there, rough and violent, and the rocks are as sharp as knives.

I know that if I jumped, I'd die.

But would that be such a bad thing? I was sure as hell scared of death in the arena. I still am. But maybe I'm more scared of dying than I am of death itself. Maybe the thing about death is that once you get through the painful part, it's actually not that bad.

A familiar voice suddenly echoes across the cliff top.

"You know if you jump, you're just letting him win."

I turn, irritated, to see Finnick, wrapped up in a dark coat, his arms folded across his chest, scarf whipping out with the wind.

"Leave me alone, Finnick." I snap for the second time today. But he doesn't, he just stomps through the tall, damp grass towards me, stopping only when he's at my side.

"You don't want to jump." He tells me, a little breathlessly. "Not really."

"How would you know?" I spit.

"Because I've been here." He says. "I've stood and looked down at those rocks and thought that death seemed a whole lot better than living."

"What if it is?" I ask angrily. He shrugs.

"Then at some point we'll both find out. But not today, Annie. You've barely lived at all."

"I've lived through quite enough." I reply bitterly. His eyes soften.

"I know. Me too. But if you kill yourself, you let Snow win."

"Snow has already won." I say, turning away to stare at the furious mass of clouds in the distance. "He killed Ethan. He stole my mind. He murdered Ava."

"He hasn't won." Finnick says vehemently. "He hasn't won because you're alive. You have me and Mags. You can be happy, Annie."

And then something - maybe it's because of that word _happy_ - snaps inside.

"I'll never be happy!" I yell furiously, turning on him. "How the hell can you say that? How can I be _happy_ without the person I love most in the whole world? How can I be _happy_ when I have to go back to the Capitol _every damn year _and get to know two more kids, just to watch them _die_?"

"Because that's how it is." Finnick tells me bluntly. "And you learn to live with it."

"You don't know anything!" I scream over the roaring wind. "You don't understand!"

"I do know!" He shouts back, raising his voice as the storm gets nearer, bringing the gale with it. "Snow took my parents!"

"You have your sister!" I screech furiously. "I have no one!"

His eyes are sad as he yells back.

"You have _me!"_

Letting out a frustrated cry, I turn on my heel, storming off along the cliff face. I expect he'll follow me, but I can't hear him over the wind.

My hair whipping wildly about my face, I stomp angrily through the scrub bushes and wild grass until the ground slopes sharply downwards and becomes stone. I drop down onto my bum and shuffle down the gravelly rocks until I land on a little flat space, the steep faces I've just slid down sheltering it from the furious wind. I pause for a moment, catching my breath, and then I hear Finnick taking the same route as me.

There's a thud from behind me as he lands on the flat ground. It's quieter here than the cliff top, no less wet, but nowhere near as windy. The dark clouds have moved over the cliffs and the rain is heavy now, soaking us both to the skin in seconds.

"You guessed." I say bitterly, without turning. "You guessed Snow would kill her."

There is a pause and high high above us the wind howls like a desolate wolf.

"I had my concerns." He says carefully. I spin around.

"You knew as soon as I screamed, didn't you?" I cry. "You knew as soon as Benedict suggested you pronounce me insane!"

"I hoped." He says roughly. "I hoped he wouldn't."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I scream. I can barely see him through the tears burning in my eyes and the pouring rain. "Why didn't you tell me as soon as I won that I was in danger?"

"Because it wouldn't have made a difference!" Finnick cries. "You never meant to scream! You'd have done it no matter what I said!"

"I wouldn't." I say. My voice is quieter now, but there's a note of bitterness, cold and hard as steel, that the old Annie, the Annie before the arena, would have hated. "But you _know_ it wasn't just the scream, Finnick." I continue bitingly. "We could have downplayed that. We could have made excuses. _You_ decided to tell everyone I was crazy. _You_ made it so none of Snow's clients would want me."

Finnick stares at me for a moment, his mouth open.

"Are you blaming me?" He asks with difficulty. "Are you saying this is _my_ fault?"

"If you'd never told them I was crazy," I say resentfully. "Snow would be whoring me out right now and Ava would be _alive_."

"You wouldn't want to live how I do, Annie." Finnick says, shaking his head and moving towards me again. "Your Grandmother would never have wanted that either."

"She never got a chance to make that decision, did she?" I spit, glaring up at him. "_You_ made it for us."

"If I hadn't," He says forcefully. "Snow would be advertising you right now."

"I don't care!" I scream, the tears spilling over my eyelids and streaking down my cheeks, mingling with the rain and tasting salty on my lips. "She's dead, Finnick! I've lost her forever!"

"Annie." Finnick reaches for me, concern in his eyes, but I snatch my hands away and then slap him hard across the face. He recoils, shock in his eyes, but I don't regret it. I may be one reason why Ava's dead right now, but so is he.

"I hate you, Finnick Odair." I say coldly, the frigid rain trickling down the back of my neck and freezing my bones. "Don't try and talk to me ever again."

* * *

...

* * *

_Ahhh, this chapter was sad for me to write; Annie's gone through enough, hasn't she? But it had to happen, and I couldn't resist the dramatic fight on top the cliffs. I'm liking me some pathetic fallacy ;) Oh and all the angst! It's just too much fun to leave out XD_

_Hope you enjoyed this chapter anyway, please review xx_


	33. Coloured Lanterns

_It's been too long, guys. I'm sorry XD And I'm sorry that this chapter probably won't make up for it... Not quite the big make up scene you've all been hoping for, but well, this chapter needs to be here. I hope you like it anyway._

_I've very nearly finished the next chapter (which was originally part of this), so it'll be up within a day or two, so look out for that. That chapter will be the last chapter, apart from the epilogue, so yes, Annie will be making everything right. (Meaning much fluff and lovely happy times) With a little help from Mags, of course ;) Turns out she's an Annie/Finnick shipper._

_I hope you enjoy this. Please review xx_

* * *

**CHAPTER THIRTY THREE - COLOURED LANTERNS**

* * *

I avoid Finnick after our argument and he makes no effort to speak to me.

I expect he's sulking because I slapped him. A little twinge of guilt flickers in my stomach every time I think of the shock and the hurt on his face after I hit him, but I always squash it. He guessed Snow would kill Ava and he didn't tell me, he didn't try to warn me. He let me act crazy, he even _encouraged_ me to act crazier than I felt.

He _lied_ to me and right now, I can't find it in myself to forgive him.

I'm so bitter. Why am I so _bitter_?

I know that wallowing in bitterness and resentment will eventually twist up my insides, will eventually blacken my heart until one day I'll be staring at my own reflection and I won't be able to recognise myself, but I don't care. I don't care. Because nothing matters, not anymore.

My Grandmother's gone. Finnick probably hates me. Snow has made it his mission in life to send me completely insane... Things aren't looking great.

I arrange for Ava's funeral to take place four days after my return. Mags offers her help but I refuse it, feeling strangely possessive about the whole affair. Ava was _my_ Grandmother; she belonged to me. It's not exactly fun organising the funeral of someone you don't even want to acknowledge is gone, though, but it gets me out of the huge empty house with its horrible echoing floors and barren rooms.

I fill my days with preparations. My nights fill themselves with nightmares.

Sometimes I wonder if Finnick and Mags can hear my screams.

On the evening of the funeral, I put on a knee length dress the colour of the night sky and pin up my hair. I look in the mirror and wince. Beneath the inky blue lace, my skin is sallow and dull - even with my trademark district 4 tan - and my eyes are flat and tired, the purple smudges beneath them a sign of how little sleep I've been getting. I look awful and I find I don't even care. I'm pretty sure I looked even worse in the arena.

This morning at sunrise, Ava's body was lowered into the ocean. I was supposed to be there, to watch as my grandmother was returned to the water, but the funeral master refused to let me join them on the boat. He told me I'd seen enough death to last a lifetime and in a way, I was grateful. I had no real desire to see the flame ravaged body of the person I loved most in the whole world.

Snow did this. Snow _did this_ to me.

In the mirror, my lips twist bitterly. My pupils are so dilated, my eyes are just black holes. With growing horror, I realise there's something vaguely manic in my expression.

I really _am_ insane.

A sudden laugh dances up on the wind through my open window and rips through my chest like a knife. Angry tears burn in my eyes and I storm over, grabbing the window frame and slamming it shut so hard, the whole wall shudders.

Oh God.

I lean my forehead against the window pane, my breath misting the glass, my eyes flickering shut.

None of this is fair. _None of it_. What did I do to deserve this? Why am I the one to lose everything?

_Finnick_ hasn't lost everything.

I know it's selfish and I know it's spiteful, but I resent him, I resent him so much it hurts. I resent everyone; every smile, every laugh, every light hearted word, it all just makes my throat ache.

I open my eyes and I see the deep red orb of the sun begin to dip over the edge of the horizon.

It's time. Time for the candle drifting. Time for my last goodbye.

* * *

...

* * *

The wind is quiet tonight. It flows gently across the cliffs, swirling my thin dress around my bare legs, and whispering through my hair as I make my way through the dry prickly grass. The sky is completely dark now too, the sun having fully set, and only a sprinkling of stars and a fading moon light the cliffs tonight.

I fold my arms across my chest, hunching my shoulders as I emerge from the tall grass and onto the cliff edge. A little way ahead, I spot the beginning of the steep, gravelly path down to the sands at the foot of the cliffs. That's where the funeral will be held, down on the beach, as befitting district 4 tradition. A few people will speak about Ava and then as the closest to her, I'll drift a small candle out into the sea. It's a beautiful long upheld tradition, but somehow the thought of going out into the cold, dark ocean all alone makes my heart hurt.

Just before I reach the cliff edge, a dark silhouette appears at the top of the pathway and I falter, recognising Finnick's tall, lean body and windswept hair. He strides towards me and I stand, eyes wide and frightened, frozen by the force of his gaze.

"Annie." He says, coming to a stop in front of me. Panicked, I try to back away, because he's really the _last_ person I want to see, but he reaches out and catches my arm, pulling me a step closer. "Annie, please." He says softly.

"I have to go." I say, my mouth turning dry. "I-I have to go down to the beach."

"I know." He says. "Everyone's waiting for you."

"Everyone?" I echo faintly and he nods.

"There are a lot of people down there." He says quietly. "It's a good turnout."

I suddenly realise I'm blinking back tears. Not just because I'm pleased that so many people want to commemorate my Grandmother's life, but because Finnick still has my arm in his grasp and his hand is so warm and his eyes are so kind and his voice is so gentle and I just can't _do this_ right now. He's not allowed to be nice to me; it just makes me feel bad.

"Please let me go." I whisper, my voice cracking. "Finnick, please."

I see his eyebrows crease.

"Annie, I..."

"I can't do this, Finnick." My voice trembles. "Not now. Please don't do this to me. I can't, I can't _handle_ it."

And it's true, I can't handle this. Because I'm _angry_ with him but it's so hard to hate him when he's here, when he's looking at me like that, when he's touching me. And I've spent so long today preparing myself for my final goodbye to Ava, I haven't had the chance to prepare myself for a confrontation with Finnick.

I can't do it now. I just _can't_.

Finnick doesn't reply for a moment, just stands there, his expression – all shadows and curves in the darkness – unreadable. I break his gaze, unable to stand it, unable to deal with my crazy conflicting feelings for him; bitterness, hatred, anger, attraction, affection, dependence...love. _Love_? No. I hate him.

My bottom lip begins to wobble. Please just let me go, I plead silently. God, I can't handle it.

And eventually, Finnick sighs and releases my arm. I try to duck around him, but he steps in front of me, blocking my path.

"Wait, Annie." He says hesitantly."I wanted to ask you if I could say a few words during the funeral." He pauses, chewing anxiously on his lip. "You know, about Ava."

I blink at him.

"But you didn't know her."

"No." He replies. "But I know how much you loved her. How much she loved you."

I hold his gaze for a moment, a muscle in my jaw clenching and my fingers twitching as pain throbs through my body like a heartbeat. Why does he want to speak? What can he say?

Does it even matter?

"Okay." I say tiredly. "You can say something if you want." And then I go to walk past him - eager to escape his unnervingly penetrating gaze - but he catches my arm again.

"Annie, I need to tell you I'm sorry..." He says. I flinch, tugging my arm from his grasp.

"Not now, Finnick." I say, my voice agonised. "Please don't. Not now."

His face crumples and although my heart twists unpleasantly, I turn away again. Wrapping my arms around myself again, I trudge towards the edge of the cliff and the start of the gravelly path.

But when I reach it and the beach comes into view far below me, I stop, my lips parting in surprise.

Because there, down on the sands, hundreds of people stand in small groups, their voices drifting up on the wind towards me, every person illuminated by a huge semi circle of coloured paper lanterns. There's every colour imaginable - red, pinks, blues, purples, greens, oranges, golds - and the flames inside the lanterns dance out across the water like thousands of tiny shimmering butterflies. It's... it's magical.

"The infant classes at the school made them for Ethan's funeral." Finnick says, appearing next to me. "Ethan's father wanted to put them up again for Ava."

A lump forms in the back of my throat and I let out a long shaky breath.

"I'm glad." I say softly. "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

* * *

...

* * *

I barely listen as people step forward to say a few words about my Grandmother. It seems ungrateful, considering, but I know that if I actually focus on what's being said I won't be able to do this, I won't be able to hold back the tears. I stand, digging my bare toes into the sand, wishing my hair was down so it could hide my face.

The air is thick with sympathy and it's sticking in my throat, making it hard to breathe. As I'd made my way across the beach to the stand in the centre of the gathering, I'd felt all eyes on me, heard the murmurings on the gentle wind:_ "such a pity", "she's just a child", "already lost so much"_ and the worst, _"it's no wonder she's so damaged"_. I know I should be happy so many people turned up tonight, but all this sympathy, all this _pity_, just makes me feel hollow inside.

A new voice suddenly sounds out across the beach and my head lifts to see Finnick request his turn to speak. I feel myself tense up, but then a cool hand slips through mine, squeezing gently. I look down to see Mags smile reassuringly up at me and my chest aches as I realise I've missed her.

Avoiding Finnick has also meant avoiding Mags.

Finnick moves to stand just in front of the water, turning to face the rest of us. His eyes shift restlessly across the crowd for a few moments, before finally settling on me.

"I didn't know Ava very well." He begins a little awkwardly. "But she came to see me, after the reaping, before we left for the Capitol." I stiffen. "She wasn't crying," Finnick continues, looking out across the whole crowd now, his voice growing stronger. "She was determined, so determined that I bring her granddaughter home... She snapped at me." He adds, a smile tracing his lips. "Told me I had to give Annie a chance. Told me she was tough, that she could win. I didn't believe her at the time."

He grins and a slight chuckle rumbles through the crowd, catching in the wind and swirling out over the ocean. I just stare at him, my heart thudding so hard, I can feel it in every limb.

He never told me this before. Why is he telling me this now?

"Annie," He says, his gaze locking on mine, his voice gentle. "Ava believed in you right from the start. She told me I had to bring you home because you were all she had and she loved you. She _loved_ you, Annie." He says, his eyes bright. "And I know you loved her, I know you loved her more than anything else in the whole world."

He pauses, breaking my gaze and looking round at gathered assembly.

"I told you all just now that I didn't know Ava very well." He says. "But I can tell you now that I do know her Granddaughter. I know Annie and I know that she is the most courageous, strong, determined, _moral_ person I have ever met."

I stare at him in shock, but he's already blazing on.

"And so ladies and gentlemen, " He says loudly, stretching his arms out on either side of him, his words echoing out across the quiet waters. "If Ava Cresta was _anything_ like her granddaughter, she must have been a pretty special person. An amazing person, in fact."

He pauses for a moment, and the silence is charged. Nobody speaks. Nobody moves. All I can hear is the sound of my heart, thumping loudly in my ears.

Amazing. Finnick said I was amazing.

His gaze returns to mine and when he speaks again, his voice is softer, his words clearly just for me.

"Ava would want you to be happy, Annie." He says. "I just wanted you to know that."

I let out a breath, feeling it shudder through my chest and Mags's hand tightens around mine. I know what Finnick is trying to tell me.

Ava would have given up her life in a heartbeat to protect me, just as I would her. I know I'd rather be one of Snow's whores than live my life without her, but what's done is done. I can't change the past now, no matter how hard I wish for it. I can only change the future. Finnick's right. Ava would want me to be happy. Maybe, at the moment, happiness is too much to aim for – maybe I'll never be truly happy – but I owe it to her to try. I owe it to her to pull myself out of this free fall.

But I don't know how. _I don't know how._

Finnick breaks my gaze and mumbles a suddenly nervous thank you to the rest of the crowd. I want to reply, to say something, _anything_, but then he steps into the throng of people and in the strange colours of the lanterns, I lose him.

And then someone appears in front of me, handing me a small blue and silver patterned floatable bowl and I remember I have a responsibility to fulfil. Accepting now is not the time to talk to Finnick, I stand still, watching as a candle is put in the floatable and lit.

As Mags leads me gently across the thin strip of wet sand and into the shallows, my hand still in hers, I realise that I don't want her to let go, I don't want to do this alone. But the words stick in my throat and I find I can't ask her to come with me and then it's too late, because she's gone and I'm left ankle deep in cold water on my own.

And then a tall man steps into the water with me and I turn to see a familiar pair of pale green eyes and a shock of dark blonde hair.

Ethan's father gives me a sad smile, the coloured shadows from the lanterns dancing across my face. He looks a lot older than I remember; deep grooves carved across his tanned forehead and such tiredness, such suffering in the furrow of his brow.

"I'm sorry about your Grandmother." He tells me quietly. Tears prick in the corner of my eyes.

"I'm sorry about Ethan." My voice catches. "I should have... I should have tried to save him..."

"No." He interrupts. "No. It wasn't your fault."

My bottom lip trembles.

"But he saved my life so many times, I should have..."

He puts a hand on my shoulder.

"There wasn't anything you could do." He says gently. "Ethan cared about you, we could all see that. He chose to protect you. He didn't want you to die."

"I didn't want him to die either." I say in a small voice and Ethan's father smiles that weary smile again.

He looks _so much_ like Ethan.

"I've brought you another candle." He says, holding out another floatable. "We held Ethan's funeral whilst you were still in the arena. I just thought you might like to drift a candle for him too."

I stare at him in surprise for a moment, but then the tears are trickling down my cheeks and with a little sob, I throw an arm around his middle. He hesitates for a second but then he too wraps an arm around me.

"Thank you." I whisper tearfully into his shoulder. "Thank you."

His arm tightens just briefly before he pulls away. There are tears in his eyes too.

"Anything you need, Annie." He says. "Just ask."

I nod and then he's putting Ethan's candle in my other hand. He lights it and with one last sad smile, he moves backwards, back onto the dry sand, signalling it's time for me to step out into the ocean.

It's time for me to say goodbye.

I take one deep steadying breath and then I start walking. The crowd is silent as I gradually get deeper and deeper, not stopping until the water is up to my thighs and the ocean around me is no longer lit up by the colourful glow of the lanterns. I feel my muscles relax beneath the surface of the water and I bob on the balls of my feet, my legs shifting with the ebb of the tide.

The wind picks up and the candles in my hands flicker, bright and alive and beautiful against the inky waters and the dark night sky and slowly, reverently, I set them down on the surface the water, holding them still. I let my eyes flutter shut, remembering the good times with Grandmother - dancing in the thunderstorms, evenings spent on the swing seat on our porch, days spent down on the beach together – and the not so good times – screaming matches when I was bordering thirteen and feeling particularly rebellious, my parents' funeral when I couldn't see any way of moving on, that time when she fell over and broke her hip and I thought I'd lost her.

Some good times, some bad times. But there was always more good than bad and she was always smiling, _always_ smiling. I smile too; a sad, tired smile.

And Ethan. My eyes cloud with tears and my smile falters.

_F__lesh meets metal, my ear splitting scream, blood explodes like a bomb, his body hits the ground, a cannon fires._

A little sob escapes my lips and I drop my head, feeling the tears trickle off the end of my nose into the ocean. He was a _good_ person. He stood up for me, he gave his life to save me. He didn't deserve that awful end. He didn't deserve to die.

The sudden memory of his laugh is so clear, so vibrant, I have to look around to check he's not standing behind me. But the waters are empty and I'm still on my own.

I miss them both _so much_.

But he's gone and so is Ava and there's nothing I can do about it except move on and _live_.

My fingers tighten momentarily on my candles but then, raising my head and setting my chin, I do the thing I came out here to do, the thing that this tradition has helped grieving people of district 4 do for decades.

I let go.

* * *

...

* * *

_This was going to be the last the chapter, but then it became much too long and I decided to split it into two. So now Ava's funeral has a whole chapter to itself. Lucky bugger._

_Anyways, my dearies, thank you so much for reading and all of your continued support. I love your reviews, I love it when you favourite or alert and I love to know you're still enjoying this story._

_PEACE OUT!_


	34. An Intervention

_Sooo, a few days later than promised. I do apologise, but well, I struggled a lot with the final scene. I hope you like it and I hope it makes up for the wait :) Just the epilogue to go after this. We're nearly there! It's taken a while..._

_Thank you to all my reviewers (I've reached 200! yay!) and thanks to everyone who's followed this fic or added it to their favourites. I love you all! __I'd really really like it if **everyone **who reads this chapter reviews it. You know. Penultimate chapter an' all. Just to let me know what you think XD_

_Anyway, please enjoy. I hope this is the ending you've waited for. (Don't forget to stick around for the epilogue though!) xx_

* * *

**CHAPTER 34 - AN INTERVENTION**

* * *

The next day, I wake up in an empty house, still in my funeral dress, hairpins sticking uncomfortably into my scalp and a horrible ache in my chest. I roll over and grab the clock, only to see it's past midday. I've slept for nearly twelve hours straight.

I sit up slowly, the room swaying like I've been hit over the head, and then push back the covers. There's sand in my sheets, sticking to my skin and making the skirts of my dress itchy, heavy and uncomfortable. With a groan, I slide out of bed and peel off the dress, leaving it in a sandy heap on the floor.

I stand in front of the full length bathroom mirror in my underwear and sadness overtakes me.

I'm a _mess._

I've lost even more weight since the Games and every single one of my ribs is visible beneath my deathly pale, practically translucent skin. My hair is tangled and dry – half of it still pinned up, half of it just _not –_ and there are black make up smudges under my eyes.

In short, I'm not a pretty sight.

Last night, after the drifting, I'd stayed out in the water until everyone on the beach had left. Well, everyone except Finnick. I could tell he wanted to talk to me, but it just wasn't a good time. My emotions were messed up enough as it was without chucking my feelings about him into the mix too.

And so I'd ignored him, not even looking at him as I walked past, beginning the trudge up the cliff path on my own. Finnick had followed me without a word and guilt had risen in my throat, black and dark and as sour tasting as bile, but I hadn't looked back. Not once. I didn't acknowledge him. I just _couldn't_. It hurt too much.

He shadowed me the whole way home and then stood silently at the end of my gate as I let myself in. A glance towards him as I shut the door told me all I needed to know.

I'd never seen him look so sad.

I'd just crawled straight into bed after that. It's a wonder I even took off my shoes, I was so tired_. _I never realised constant grief was so _exhausting_.

Still, that was probably the best night's sleep I've had since the Games. No nightmares. There were no nightmares. In fact, I don't even remember what I dreamt about, it's all just a black void.

As I stand under the shower, feeling all the sand and grime wash from my body, letting my mind wander, a sharp memory of Ava's smile and the realisation that I'll never see it again knocks the breath out of my chest. My legs wobble and I have to clutch at the wall for support. For a second, I think I might be on the brink of an episode, but then the weirdest things happens.

I laugh.

I laugh because I can remember Ava's smile as vividly as I can see my own hands leant up against the wall right now, and that's something Snow can never take away from me.

Just because she's gone doesn't mean I have to forget. And I'll never forget.

And then I'm sobbing and laughing at the same time and I have to sit down in the shower because I can't stand upright anymore. The thought that I might be insane crosses my mind, but for once I don't care.

Because for the first time in ages, I feel like everything might turn out okay.

* * *

...

* * *

After my shower, I get dressed, I eat breakfast and I drink a cup of hot chocolate. I brush my hair and I clean my teeth. I even put a little blusher on my pale cheeks. And then I open every single window in the whole house, smiling in the sunlight as the fresh ocean air comes streaming through.

I'm still a bit wobbly, though. The echoing of my feet as I move around the empty house makes my chest ache, and when I put the television on and they play the clip of Ethan's death, my scramble for the remote knocks over a chair, a table and a very expensive looking vase. It takes me a few minutes to calm down – my fists clench so tightly, my nails leave deep white imprints in my palms – but I manage it and I manage it without descending into hysterical convulsions.

It's by no means a miraculous recovery, but it's a start.

It doesn't help, though, that my stomach curls whenever I think of Finnick: the hurt in his eyes out on that cliff during the storm, the way his face crumpled when I dismissed him before the funeral, the sad downturn of his lips as I shut the door afterwards.

I have to apologise to him, I know that. But for some reason, I just can't work up the courage to go and find him. What would I say? I told him he didn't understand. I trampled all over his own pain like it meant _nothing _to me. I blamed him for my Grandmother's _death_, for goodness sake.

How do I even begin to apologise for that?

This is all his fault, I remind myself in an unconvincing attempt to make myself feel better. _His_ fault.

I potter around for a few hours, not really doing much and feeling incredibly lonely. I don't want to go round to Mags' and Finnick's though, for obvious reasons.

At about five o'clock, the doorbell rings. Surprised and a little apprehensive, I open the door slowly and find Mags and Finnick's older sister, Jen, whom I've met a few times before, standing on the doorstep.

Instantly, I panic.

"Finnick's not with you, is he?" I ask frantically. Mags shakes her head.

"No."

When I sigh with relief, concern creases her brow. I can tell she's about to say something, so I take the coward's way out and leg it, heading towards the kitchen.

"Tea, coffee or hot chocolate?" I call over my shoulder. I hear the door shut and footsteps as they follow me into the kitchen. To avoid looking at them, I busy myself grabbing mugs from the cupboard and putting the kettle on. I'm sure they've worked out what's going on already though. I expect Finnick went running straight to Mags and his sister after I slapped him. They probably hate me now too.

"Tea, please." Jen says quietly and I hear the scrape of chairs as they seat themselves at the little round table in the middle of the room.

"Mags?" I ask, without looking.

"Coffee." She replies. I nod and set about making up the drinks. None of us speak for a few minutes, the only sound the slow bubbling of the kettle and the rattle of the coffee jar.

After a little while though, Jen clears her throat.

"I was going to wait a while." She says. "But I'm just going to come right out and say it."

I turn expectantly, just in time to catch Mags give Jen a warning frown. Jen ignores her, though, and her eyes are narrowed slightly as they meet mine.

"What's up between you and Finnick?" She asks bluntly.

I stiffen, a teaspoon still clutched in my fingers. In the silence that follows, the kettle beeps loudly as it comes to the boil.

"Nothing." I say eventually. One glance at Jen lets me know she's not convinced, though, and I make a conscious effort to lighten my tone. "Why?" I ask brightly. It sounds fake even to my own ears.

"You're avoiding him," Jen says accusingly. "I can tell." I feel my hand tremble.

"I'm not." I say unconvincingly. "He's avoiding me."

_Liar_, my mind shoots back. _He came to find you on the cliffs last night, didn't he? And what did you do? You ran away first chance you got. And what about after the funeral? You ignored him. You ran away yet again._

Well, running away has always been what I do best, hasn't it?

"He's avoiding me." I repeat.

"No, he's not, Annie." Mags says softly. "He's devastated, you know."

I stand very still, my heart beating too hard, my skin growing too warm. To my horror, I suddenly find tears forming again in my eyes. Damn it, I'm so fed up crying.

Jen and Mags watch me silently as I wipe a furious hand across my face. I will not cry over Finnick. I _refuse_ to.

"Oh Annie." Mags whispers eventually. "You do love him, don't you?"

My head jerks up.

"Wh-what?" I say with a gasp. "No! No way!" My voice dips, my jaw setting bitterly. "I _hate_ him."

"Do you?" Jen asks me sceptically.

"Yes!" I go and stand at the table, smacking an emphatic hand down on the surface as I do so. "Yes, I do. He lied to me. He convinced everyone I'm insane. It's _his_ fault Ava is gone."

"You don't really mean that, do you?" Mags asks gently. I glower at her.

"Of course I do!" I say. "Of course I mean it!"

They both just look at me and I glare defiantly back. I hate Finnick. I _do_. I meant every word I said. He lied. He _betrayed_ me. And I hate him with a passion. I won't apologise to him. I won't.

I don't care how kind his eyes were last night up on the cliff. I don't care how he helped me to realise Ava would have wanted to protect me. _I don't_ _care_ that he said I was the most courageous, strong, determined, _moral_ person he's ever met...

And then suddenly I'm sobbing, my hands flying to face, the tears dripping through my fingers.

Oh who am I kidding?

"I _don't_ mean it." I sob, sinking down onto one of the chairs. "I _don't_. But I told him I did and now he hates me. And I slapped him so hard and I swear he's never looked so hurt and god, I've messed this all up." I look up at Mags and Jen through my tears, my voice growing high pitched in distress. "I told him it was his fault Ava is dead. I _blamed_ him!" Another sob racks through my chest and then I'm suddenly in Mags' arms.

"Annie..." She begins soothingly.

"And I don't hate him," I wail, cutting her off. "I _don't_ hate him and I've missed him so much." Mags pulls me into her chest, holding me tightly, just letting me sob. "I need him, Mags." I bawl into her soft cardigan. "I need him and I've ruined it all."

She presses her cheek into my hair, rocking me gently.

"You haven't ruined it, sweetheart." She says softly. "He needs you too. He tries to pretend he doesn't, but he does."

I lift my head, tears dripping from my chin.

"You didn't hear what I said to him. And last night, I just _ignored_ him. He hates me, I'm sure."

"No, he doesn't." Mags says, and then a little smile creeps across her face. "You should have seen him whilst you were in the arena. He was desperate to get you out alive."

I sit back in my seat, wiping a hand across my face and sniffing like a toddler.

"He just wanted a victor."

"No." Mags says patiently. "He wanted _you_."

Jen suddenly appears next to us and perches on the edge of the table.

"Trust me, Annie." She says, her hand reaching out to rub my back. "My little brother is pining like a puppy dog right now."

I give a hiccup and she and Mags chuckle fondly.

"But I told him I hated him." I say sadly. "And then I..."

"Did you not hear him last night?" Jen interrupts me impatiently. "He said you were _amazing_, Annie. He got up in front of everyone and practically admitted he loved you."

My heart misses a beat.

"You think he loves me?" I ask hopefully. Is this what I want? Finnick to love me?

I'm awfully worried my answer to that might be a yes...

"Of _course_ he does." Mags says. "He put everything on the line to save you, Annie. Not just from the arena, but from Snow too."

Shame burns in my cheeks and I nod.

"I know." I whisper. My lip wobbles, fresh tears trickling down my cheeks."But I was just so... so _devastated_. He was there. I could blame him."

"You need to tell him you didn't mean it." Jen tells me, her hand moving to stroke my hair. "He thinks you did. He believes you, I can tell. I've never seen him look so sad."

I nod slowly, but I'm scared. I'm scared Jen and Mags are wrong and Finnick does hate me. He tried to apologise last night, but I cut him off, dismissing him and then walking straight past him like he meant nothing to me.

But he means _everything_, I can admit that now.

"I was so horrible." I whisper.

Mags gives a decisive nod.

"Then you should apologise now." She says. I stare at her in alarm.

"Now?"

"Yes." She nods. "Now."

I scramble for excuses.

"But I don't know where he is. I, I can't just go up to him."

"Yes, you can." Mags says.

"I don't know where he is." I repeat desperately. Jen smirks at me.

"He's down at the beach. He left about half an hour ago."

"But, but..."

"No buts." Mags chides me gently. "Now dry your eyes, Annie, and off you pop. He's not going to stick around at the beach forever."

"But what if he won't forgive me?" I ask, my voice wobbling slightly.

"He will." Jen says and then she winks at me. "And if he doesn't, I'll smack him around a bit until he does."

And then they both stand, lifting me gently but firmly to my feet.

"I don't think this is a good idea..." I say nervously as they propel me back into the hall and Mags darts upstairs to find my coat.

"Nonsense." Jen says briskly, grabbing my boots from the corner and handing them to me. I shove my feet inside and then crouch down to lace them up, something which proves very difficult with shaking hands.

There is a moment's silence.

"Annie." Jen says suddenly, and I look up to find her green eyes serious. She lets out a sigh. "I just want you to know that Finnick did the right thing." Her voice grows sad. "To be used as a bargaining tool, to know that someone you love is being forced to do horrible _awful_ things to keep you alive and safe, is the worst feeling in the world." She pauses before adding softly. "Ava would have hated it." I stare up at her for a moment, feeling a lump grow in my throat.

"I know." I say eventually. "I just wish there'd been another way."

She leans down to help me to my feet and as I stand, she tucks a strand of my hair behind my ears in an affectionate, motherly gesture.

"Believe me, Annie." She says softly. "We all do."

* * *

...

* * *

I make my way across the cliffs and down the steep path to the beach with growing apprehension. What if I've already gone too far? What if Finnick has realised I'm just a horrible, selfish person and he should stay away from me? What if he thinks I'm crazy?

No. No, he can't. He cares about me. He has to. He wouldn't have said what he said at the funeral if he didn't.

I reach the edge of the path, glancing up and down what I can see of the beach and my heart sinks.

It's empty.

Finnick's not here.

I'm torn between relief and sheer disappointment. Relief because his rejection has been delayed another couple of hours. Disappointment because the _not knowing_ might actually be worse than the rejection itself.

Heaving a great big sigh, I step out onto the sands. The beach stretches for miles each way, curving with the cliffs and Finnick could have gone in any direction. He could be anywhere by now. I rock back my heels, my lips pursed as I try to decide what to do. I know I can't put this off any longer. I need to find him. I need to tell him I don't hate him.

But what do I do? Which way do I go?

I find myself beginning to shiver and so, still unsure about what to do, I trudge towards the sea, stomping my feet a bit and burying my nose in my scarf. It's not a warm day today. The sky is a pale clear blue and the sun sparkles pleasantly on the rolling waves, but it's cold. So very cold.

I stop when I reach the water, my arms wrapped tightly around me, my breath visible in the air. High above my head, a seagull lets out a loud cry, and I close my eyes, revelling in the sounds of home; the birds, the sea, the rush of pebbles as the waves lap at the shore.

God, I'm tired. So tired. I'm tired of bitterness. I'm tired of loneliness_._

My eyes flicker open and I find they're damp with tears. _Again_. I let out a little humph, ramming my hands deep in my pockets, trying to blink then desperately away.

And it's then that I spot the footprints.

My wet eyes widen briefly. They _have_ to be Finnick's. I know the tide only went out about two hours ago and not many people come down to the beach during the late afternoon. I glance wildly around and see that the only other set of footprints in the sand are mine.

Those footprints are Finnick's – they're _Finnick's_ – and they're heading up to the left, up towards the long stretch of rocks further round the headland. My chin lifts. I can find him. I can find Finnick.

Wiping my eyes, I start along the beach, my eyes fixed on the trail of footprints on the sand, my heart thumping in my chest in rhythm with my boots. I carry on for a little while, following the prints along the line of the ocean, and eventually, the beach starts to curve around the cliffs.

But then the sand tapers out into solid rock and I lose my trail. Still, I know he's gone in this direction; he's got to be somewhere around here.

I step up onto the lowest shelf of rock, making my way slowly through the formations. I used to play here when I was little. Ethan did too. Walking through these rocks, remembering better days, I'm hit by the sudden memory of me and him racing across the river in the arena. I can almost hear the laughter, the splashing the water, Jasmine's squeal as Ethan leapt from rock to rock.

For a second, I falter, my chest clenching like a fist... but then I take a deep breath and a faint smile curves my lips upwards. Because it's another _good_ memory. Something I can store away forever, something that can never be taken from me.

Ethan deserves only the good memories.

I start walking again, hunching my shoulders a bit from the cold, my boots crunching on the sandy stone beneath them.

The rocks suddenly rise higher and I realise that if I want any chance of spotting Finnick, I'm going to have to start climbing. Tossing the end of my scarf over my shoulder, I do so, my hands slipping slightly on the sandy rock. But it doesn't take me long – I'm used to climbing rocks after all – and soon, I'm heaving myself onto the top of the ridge, scrambling onto my knees.

I pull myself to my feet, bending over slightly to brush the sand from my pants before straightening. I look out over the rocks, squinting slightly in the bright reflection of the sun on the ocean and lifting a hand to protect my eyes.

And then I spot him.

My heart judders.

He's further out on the rocks, his collar pulled up around his ears, his scarf flying out behind him in the wind and as I watch him, he swings back his arm and then lobs a small stone far out into the ocean. He's not skimming stones or anything, just hurling pebble after pebble into the sea.

I hover where I am, hopping from foot to foot in some weird kind of attempt to get myself moving and down there.

But for some reason, I'm stuck.

He's here. Finnick is down _there_. I just have to climb down and I can apologise. Nothing's stopping me... But I'm scared. No, I'm more than that, I'm _terrified_. I could just turn around and go home; he hasn't seen me, he'd never know.

Except... well, I _need_ him. I worked that out in the train on the way down here; I accepted the attraction I felt for him, I accepted that I needed him more than I can ever begin to explain.

But somehow, somewhere along the way – and I have a feeling it was up on that cliff during the storm – I forgot.

_If I don't make this right,_ I realise as I watch him hurl stones into the ocean, _I might lose him forever._

And so taking a deep breath, I start down the rocks, negotiating them slowly and carefully. Finnick doesn't see me as I near him, just carries on pulling pebbles from his pocket and lobbing them furiously into the sea. I get so close, I can hear the little grunts he makes as he releases the rocks, I can see the tension in his shoulders, I can feel him trying to throw all of his pain and anger and despair into the ocean.

_He hates me_, is my first thought.

I'm just about to turn away, to leave and escape making a fool of myself, when he turns, his lips twisted angrily, his eyebrows furrowed.

And then he sees me and he falters, his hand hovering in mid air, his eyes widening and his lips parting in silent surprise.

I open my mouth to speak, but I can't find the words. I don't think I could talk though, even if I could think of something to say. The inside of my mouth feels like sandpaper.

"Hi." I manage after what feels like an eternity. His hand drops to his side.

"Hi." He replies, dropping his gaze awkwardly and shoving his hands in his pockets.

This is bad, really bad. Finnick is almost _never_ awkward. Feeling my stomach twist into anxious knots, I wrap my arms protectively across my chest, my shoulders curving inwards.

"I...uh..." I croak, before clearing my throat embarrassedly. "I was looking for you."

His head lifts and his eyes meet mine.

"You were?"

I nod once, unable to find my voice again. Finnick regards me silently for a moment.

"Why were you looking for me?" He asks eventually. I run the tongue along the inside of my bottom lip as I contemplate my answer. It tastes of salt.

"Mags wanted to know if you were okay." I say.

Disappointment flashes in his eyes and he turns away.

"Well, you can tell her I'm fine." He snaps, pulling another stone from his pocket and hurling it far out into the ocean. I flinch a little.

"Finnick, don't..."

"Don't what?" He turns on me, his voice an odd mix of anger and desperation. "Don't walk away from you? Because that's all you've been doing to me, Annie."

I shrink away from him.

"I didn't mean that."

"Well, what did you mean then?" He asks fiercely taking a step closer. "What is it that you want from me? I've tried, Annie, I've tried to work it out, but I can't. I can't do it."

I stare at him.

He looks so angry, so sad. I did this to him. This is all _my_ _fault_.

"I'm sorry." I whisper, breaking his gaze and looking down at my boots. "I never wanted... I never wanted to hurt you, Finnick."

"Didn't you?" He asks bitterly.

My head snaps up.

"No!" I say emphatically. "No, I didn't." I move so I'm standing right in front of him, staring up at him with tears stinging in my eyes. "I should never have yelled at you," I continue, my voice cracking. "Or slapped you or ignored you or blamed you for any of this. I was wrong and I'm so sorry, Finnick, I really am."

He doesn't reply and I know I've lost him. He gave me a chance last night to make everything right and I refused it, I threw it straight back in his face. I wouldn't blame him if he never forgives me.

And so, my shoulders wilting like a sad flower, I turn away and start to walk slowly away.

Mags and Jen were wrong. I was wrong. Finnick doesn't love me and he never will. I'm going to spend the rest of my life alone, grief stricken and heart broken.

Serves me right, I think sadly, wiping my damp eyes with the cuff of my coat.

But then a hand grabs my arm and whirls me round and I barely have a chance to think before I'm in Finnick's arms and his lips are on mine. My eyes widen in surprise, my fingers splaying out on his chest - _how? what?_ - but then his arms, wrapped tightly around my waist, pull me flush against him and I surrender to his kiss, tracing my hands up his shoulders before winding my fingers in his hair.

He kisses me hard, almost like he's scared I'm going to run away again, and I find myself kissing him back with such passion it's actually a little frightening.

Eventually though, he pulls away. He keeps me in his arms though, his nose pressing against mine.

"Annie." He whispers a little raggedly, his breath warm on my already tingling lips. "Annie, I'm sorry too."

"Why are you sorry?" I ask with a frown, a little disappointed he's stopped kissing me.

"Because you were right to blame me." He mutters and I feel his eyelashes move against my cheek as he closes his eyes. "Because it was my fault."

I push my hands against his chest, forcing him to pull away and look at me.

"No." I say firmly. "None of it's your fault. None of it. It was all Snow."

His eyes harden and his hands, still on waist, tighten.

"Snow will pay one day, Annie." He tells me. "I promise you that."

I reach up to take his face in my hands.

"Maybe he will." I whisper, tracing my thumb gently across his chin.

"He will." He says roughly. "If I have to kill him myself, he'll pay for everything he's done to you. Everything he's done to me."

And then because his fierce promise sends a delicious little shiver up my spine, I push myself up onto my toes and press my lips back to his. He kisses me back eagerly, his fingers pressing into my hips to steady me when I sway slightly.

Wanting more than I'm getting, I release his face to fling my arms around his neck, my lips parting beneath his. He seems hesitant to increase the intensity of the kiss though, and when my teeth scrape along his bottom lip – quite by accident – he jerks backwards, stumbling away from me and staring at me with steadily reddening cheeks.

I stare back him confusedly. Finnick doesn't flush. That's _my_ thing.

"You're blushing." I tell him and his cheeks darken even more.

"I'm sorry." He says, shifting his shoulders awkwardly and fidgeting self consciously. "I'm just not used to kissing someone that I care about."

Oh. Of course. I immediately feel bad for not remembering it before.

But then his words fully register and I'm suddenly gaping at him.

"You care about me?" I ask.

His eyebrows raise.

"Well, yes." He says. "I _was_ just kissing you."

I feel myself start to blush too.

"I know." I say, feeling a bit foolish. "I just... I just..." And then a little tentative smile lifts the corners of my lips, my gaze lifting to meet his. "I care about you too."

He grins at me.

"I kind of gathered that, but thanks." He takes a few step forwards to wrap his arms around my waist again. "It means a lot to hear you say that." He tells me and I smile back, before resting my head on his chest, my eyes fluttering shut. He presses his lips into my hair, his arms tightening around me.

Standing there, wrapped securely in his arms, the steady reassuring sound of Finnick's heartbeat in my ear, I am hit by the same feeling of euphoria I was in the shower this morning. My life _will_ get better, I know that now. I've suffered so much, seen so many awful things, and I know that there will be more to come... But now, I don't have to face it alone.

I have Finnick and he doesn't hate me, no, in fact, he cares about me. He cares about _me_.

"Annie." He whispers suddenly.

"Mm?" I reply absentmindedly, my hand tracing little patterns on his chest.

"You know I said I cared about you?" He asks. I tilt my head back to look up at him.

"Yeah?"

"Well," He says. "I think there might be a little more to it than that."

"Oh?" I ask, feeling my brow crease in confusion. "What?"

The corner of his lip quirks upwards.

"I think," He says slowly. "I think that I might be a little in love with you."

My mouth drops opens with an audible pop and he chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest.

"Is that alright with you?" He asks. I nod mutely, stunned into silence.

He loves me. Finnick _loves_ me.

I press my cheek back into his chest.

Finnick loves me.

And then the tears are back, but for the first time in a very long while, they're not tears of despair or grief or devastation. They're tears of happiness.

Because hearing him tell me he loves me makes me feel like I could conquer the world.

"Finnick." I whisper with a little sniffle.

"Yeah?" He asks, his hand stroking gently up and down my back, tangling in my hair.

"I think," I say hesitantly, still without looking up at him. "I think I might be a little in love with you too."

I feel him drop a kiss onto the top of my head.

"I'm glad." He says. "Very glad."

We stand like that for a little while, locked tightly in each other's arms. His warmth. His solidness. His heartbeat. I'm starting to think that the feeling of his arms around me is the best feeling I've ever had.

"So," He says suddenly and I tilt my head up to see he's grinning down at me, his green eyes sparkling in the sunlight. "We both might be a little in love with each other. Where do we go from here?"

I ponder this for a second, before my gaze shifts down towards his lips.

"Perhaps another kiss?" I ask hopefully. He chuckles.

I thought that being in his arms was good, but then he presses his lips back to mine, his hand lifting to my chin to deepen the kiss, and I start to realise that actually, his kisses might just give his hugs a run for their money.

_This,_ I think with some satisfaction, is truly the best feeling I've ever ever had.

That is, at least, until he does it again.

* * *

...

* * *

_So they kissed! Yay! I know Finnick said Annie crept up on him over a long time, but I've decided that it's already been long enough. They needed a little lip action! Plus I couldn't do that to you guys, I couldn't leave you without the love! There may be some mistakes in this, because although I've spent so long reading and re-reading it through until I was vaguely happy with it, I may have missed some. You know when you've been concentrating on something for too long and you start to not notice the mistakes? Well, yeah, please forgive me. I'll quadruple check it tomorrow._

_Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this. Please review and please stick around for the epilogue, it'll just round everything up. __But yeah, it should be up over the next couple of days :)_

_Loves xx _

**_Remember guys, I want everyone to review this chapter!_**


	35. Epilogue

_So here it is. The epilogue. It's about four thousand words longer than I originally intended, but well, I got carried away... Basically, it covers the whole year after Annie wins her Games, through the Victory Tour, the 71st Games (which I've decided Johanna won) and then finishes on the anniversary of Ava's death. _

_I hope you enjoy it, I did, and please review for me XD_

PS _On another note... have you seen the dude they've allegedly signed on as Finnick in the next film? Sam Claflin, I think his name is. Hmmm, I'm not convinced I like him. He reminds me of Hugh Grant :/_

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

* * *

The next morning I move in with Mags and Finnick.

Finnick carries what little I've acquired over the last couple of days round from my house to his, bounding down his front path with a cardboard box in his arms like an over-excitable puppy. He's ecstatic I'm moving in and so is Mags. She welcomes me with a huge smile, a warm hug and a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

The first night, I go to bed in my own bedroom. Finnick kisses me goodnight outside my door and tells me that if I need him, he's just down the hall. Despite his worries, though, I fall asleep quickly, lulled into a false sense of security by my two nights of undisturbed sleep.

The dreams start out peaceful enough, but it isn't long before the nightmares return, and when they do, it's with a vengeance. As usual, my unconscious mind takes me straight back to the arena, but this time it's not Ethan, Jasmine, Reuben and Elenna I see tortured in terrible terrible ways, it's Finnick and Mags. It's Finnick I see torn apart by a crocodile mutt. It's Mags I see collapsing beneath a torrent of acid rain.

I come to my senses to find myself in hysterical sobs, shaking and covered in sweat, the bed covers twisted around my legs. I'm pretty sure I've been screaming too since my throat hurts like hell. But then the door creaks open and I'm back in Finnick's arms, my newly discovered favourite place to be. He holds me tightly, cradling me in his lap, whispering soothing words into my hair. It takes me a little while to calm down, but when I do, I realise I don't want Finnick to leave.

And so he doesn't.

He spends that night in my bed, the two of us curled up together like kittens. With my head resting on his chest and the sound of his heartbeat in my ears, the nightmares seem to have a little more trouble getting through.

For the next couple of weeks, we begin the night in our own beds, but by the morning, one of us is always tucked up in the other's. If it isn't because of my nightmares, it's because of his. More than once I awaken in the middle of the night to find him mumbling in his sleep, tears spiking in his eyelashes, his hands clenched into shaking fists.

I soon learn that most of his nightmares involve me and some near death experience in the arena. Sometimes, I'll wake up in the middle of the night to find him sliding into my bed and wrapping his arms so tightly around me I have to remind him that I do actually need to breathe. He always loosens his grip with a muffled apology, but he never lets go. I guess he needs to remind himself that I'm still here. I need to do that with him sometimes too.

After about a month of padding down the hallway to each other's rooms, we finally admit defeat and I move into his room. At first I'm worried what Mags will think, but when I tentatively bring it up, she assures me she doesn't mind. She tells me that she knew we ended up in each other's beds anyway and she's glad that we're helping each other with our nightmares. She also knows, apparently, that we're not getting up to anything anyway. When one of my trademark blushes spreads across my face, she chuckles and gives my cheek a quick pinch. _Not that I'd mind, of course_, she adds with a cheeky wink.

But we all know that kind of thing is far _far_ off in the future.

Finnick kisses me soundly and often, but it's never more than that. And it's certainly never as heatedly as that first kiss on the rocks. I quickly realise he's never had a proper relationship and that he's actually quite frightened at the prospect. I am too, I guess.

As a result, though, his kisses are nearly always chaste and undemanding. Still, I'm not complaining. I love the way he'll come up behind me and slip his arms around my waist, or the way he'll peck me on the cheek before I go to bed, or the way when I sit next to him, he'll pull me close, his fingers entwining themselves in my long hair.

I love it all, but at times, though, I wish he'd give me more. You know, when I wake up to find I've sort of rolled on top of him and all I can smell is the scent of his skin or when I feel his hand slip absent-mindedly up my pyjama top to trace little circles on my stomach. The worst is when I wake up in the morning to find one of my thighs has managed to hitch itself up around his hip.

Still, I'm happy to take our relationship slowly, and as far as I'm concerned, it's much better this way. Plus I know that Finnick struggles to cope with the idea. For him, that kind of stuff is what he's forced to do with all sorts of disgusting Capitol women. I'm alright with that, though. We have the rest of our lives for intimacy, after all.

My episodes come and go – always more intense and harder to wake up from than a nightmare – and some days, I'm tempted to crawl under my bed and never resurface. Sometimes, Mags and Finnick become faceless tributes from both my Games and the Games I've watched over the years. Sometimes, they become Ash or Ethan or Seela or Sneaky Eyes from district 11. One especially scary day, Finnick – grabbing my arms in an attempt to stop me from hurting myself – becomes President Snow dragging me into an imagined client's bedroom.

Sometimes Finnick and Mags can talk me down. Sometimes they can't. As a result of my self destructive behaviour during an episode, I'm never left on my own, even on the good days. I don't mind, though. I've developed a fear of being alone. I also hate the dark. It's like a ready made screen for my memories to play across in all their glorious technicolour. The only way I can stand the dark is if I'm in Finnick's arms.

Most of the time, Finnick's presence in my bed keeps the nightmares away. Sometimes, it doesn't.

Nearly two months after Ava's funeral, Finnick receives a message from the Capitol informing him his _services_ are required there as soon as possible. The moment he tells me, I burst into noisy tears, collapsing in a heap on the floor and subsequently slipping into my worst episode yet.

I come to my senses nearly two hours later - crumpled, sobbing and shaking in Finnick's arms - to find Mags has packed him a small bag and he's ready to go. He's so calm, so reassuring, that I feel guilty I'm making such a fuss. After all, I'm not the one heading to the Capitol. I'll be staying here, safe in district 4, whilst he's spending his time in the bedrooms of all the most prominent Capitol citizens. Just the thought of it sends a wave of nausea up my throat.

Finnick keeps me in his arms for a little while longer, his nose buried in my hair, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. I, in turn, cling to him like I'm drowning and he's the only thing keeping me afloat. I can't live without him. I _can't._

Eventually, though, he mutters in my ear that he can't wait any longer and he has to leave; Snow is expecting him. My lips find his with a tearful gasp and our kiss is fast and fierce and _desperate_. I hold onto him, trying to commit every tiny detail – his touch, his scent, his taste – to memory. But then he pulls away and gets to his feet, lifting me with him. I refuse to let go of him, tears leaking from my eyes, and he has to gently but firmly untangle my clenched fists from his shirt, his own eyes growing damp too.

And then with one last crushing hug and a whispered _I love you_, he's gone.

The next two months are a blur of tears, nightmares and sleepless nights. Everyone tries their best to keep me occupied. Mags teaches me how to bake a hundred different things using sea weed. Jen has me knotting up endless twine bracelets for her to sell in her shop down in town. Her husband, Darryl, teaches me the names of all the star constellations that pass over the cliffs. Their daughter, six year old Bianca spends hours with me painting pictures and making paper animals and her younger brother, three year old Max, drags me up to the beach every evening to make sand castles and play tag in the surf.

I appreciate everything they do for me – their efforts to involve me, to make me part of their family make my poor bruised heart swell so much it hurts – but nothing seems to keep my mind off Finnick. My episodes get worse and it seems like it's becoming harder and harder for Mags to talk me down. New images flood my mind every time I close my eyes. Finnick's lips on green skin. Clawed talons raking through his bronze hair. Piles of rich, opulent clothes on bedroom floors. My stomach twists with insane jealousy and my heart aches for Finnick; for the poor, grieving man I sometimes see during the night, for the man who kissed me goodbye with a kind of raw desperation, for the man who is just as broken as I am.

Eventually, though, exactly fifty nine days after he left, he turns up on the doorstep, pale and weary, but still here, still _home_. As soon as Mags lets him inside, I barrel into him, my arms flying around his shoulders, hitting him so hard he has to take a step back. But he's laughing, holding me tightly, his face buried in my neck. I can feel his hot tears on my skin and I just hold him, whispering in his ear that I'm here, I'm here and I always will be. Wherever he has to go, whatever he has to do, I'll be here, waiting for him.

For the first few weeks after his return, Finnick and I are inseparable, although he never speaks of the life Snow has built for him in the Capitol. I don't ask, but I let him know that I'm there to listen if he wants to talk. His nightmares are worse for about a week after his return – I spend many hours during the night with him curled up in my arms, silent sobs racking through his chest – but then it all settles back down. He hates me to see him like that, he tells me. He wants to be the strong one, the one there for me when I scream in the night. Strangely enough, the need to be there for _him_ keeps the nightmares and the flashbacks at bay. Even after Finnick regains the ability to sleep a whole night without waking up shaking, my episodes lessen somewhat.

I guess this is what my life will be like. A constant swing between utter devastation and bitter sweet optimism. When Finnick is here, when I can feel the solidness of his arms around me, the warmth of his broad firm chest, the steady, dependable beat of his heart against my ear, the memories don't seem so bad. They're still there, of course, but the good ones are much easier to remember.

But when Finnick is gone, my world becomes dark; a black void filled with remembered screams and lost friends. I begin to dread the next time he leaves me. Every time I think about it, my hands start to tremble and I have to find him, wherever he is at that point in time, and fling my arms around his neck, holding him so tightly and for so long, he eventually asks me, his voice rumbling pleasantly through my body, what on earth the matter is.

_Don't want you to leave again_, becomes my frequent answer, often accompanied with a tearful pout. His reply is always the same. A gentle kiss on the cheek and a murmur in my ear: _I won't, sweetheart, not yet._

Not yet. _Yet_. I try not to think about the _yet_.

Luckily, Finnick is not called back to the Capitol again before my Victory Tour. Said Tour arrives all too soon, though, and the day I'm scheduled to leave dawns bright and clear. Starla, the prep team and Violet all meet me at the train station and, as the train pulls away in the direction of district 12, Starla whisks me away to dress me up in her latest creation; a deep blue figure hugging dress in jewel encrusted velvet. In fact, as we move through the districts, I realise she's carrying on her water theme from the Games. Most of my dresses are a kind of blue, green, or grey, or something in between. Whatever colour I'm wearing, though, Starla seems to supply Finnick with a matching tie. I'm guessing the Capitol is still liking us as a couple.

Despite my never ending supply of beautiful dresses and the unwavering support from both Mags and Finnick, the Victory Tour is just horrible. I have trouble deciding which districts are the most heart breaking. Maybe district 12 with those tired, hungry faces, and Elenna's large family sitting right in front of the stage. I can't work out from their expressions whether they resent me for winning, or whether they're grateful I saved her life at high cost to myself. Perhaps a little bit of both, I think.

District 11 makes my chest ache too. The tall thin boy with pale skin and an accusatory expression I guess is Belle's older brother and Sneaky Eyes' best friend. I spend the whole ceremony avoiding his gaze. I learn Sneaky Eyes' name in district 11 too. Caleb. It was Caleb. It's strange, thinking about him having a name, realising that he was a _real_ person, with family and friends that loved him and a whole life back here, but now he's just _gone. _He was that last cannon. He very nearly survived. He would have won, no question about it. He would have killed me and it'd be him standing here now. I see his family sitting in front of me and I want to find some way to tell them I'm grateful to their son for saving me from Ash, because if he hadn't, I'd have been dead long before the dam broke... But I can't think of how to get it into my speech and then Violet is ushering me back onto the train and I've lost my chance.

The Tour continues and it doesn't get any better. In every district, there are two grieving families, whole grieving _communities_, and they're all looking at me, listening to me prattle on about how grateful I am to be alive, cheering and clapping when really, they're all wishing me dead. Reuben's older brothers all look so much like him, district 7 isn't much fun either and district 3 only reminds me of the little girl Seela tortured.

When district 3's previous victors greet us at the station, a solemn but jumpy little man with glasses and restless grey eyes – Beetee I think his name is – pulls Finnick over to the side. He and Finnick have a quiet little exchange, and although their words are muffled by the roar of the train's engines, there's something about Finnick's expression that raises a little red flag in my head. When I ask him about it later, his dismissal is so smooth I almost believe him. That is until I realise he's talking like the Capitol Finnick and that version of him is really _really_ good at lying. But I drop it, guessing he'll tell me when he's ready. God only knows when that'll be though.

The Tour moves on at a brisk pace and the train takes us to district 2. Finnick and Mags seem pretty pally with the other victors, but I _hate_ it all. Both Ash and Seela despised me and I can't help but feel that their families and the rest of the district do too. After all, they probably thought they had a good chance at winning this year, both Ash and Seela were a million times stronger than I was. District 1 is difficult too, especially considering I put those morphine tablets in Jasmine's mouth. The fact that she wanted me to do it is irrelevant; every time I think of it, the guilt has me nearly doubled over in pain.

But no matter how awful my time in the districts was, the celebrations in the Capitol are by far the worst. The people make me feel as sick as they did when I arrived six months ago, perhaps even more so now I know what they do to victors like Finnick.

After a long, drawn out interview with Caesar Flickerman (who greets me like a long lost friend), I am obliged to attend a lavish ball at Snow's mansion. My dress is made from that shimmery water-like material again and I spend the evening being gushed over by various Capitol women, their surgically enhanced lips smacking together like wet fish and their horrible bird like claws keeping me trapped in their midst. The men are just as bad, although they use admiration for my outfit as an excuse to get in a quick grope of my backside. A few of them offer outright to get me _out_ of it.

Finnick spends the evening looking like he's restraining himself from ripping them apart.

At one point, bored stiff and frankly a little disturbed by the conversation around me, I let my gaze wander around the room... only to meet a pair of translucent, snake eyes. Snow smirks at me from across the room, lifting his glass in vaguely mocking acknowledgement.

After that, I am very much aware that Snow keeps an eye on me for the rest of the evening, a small speculative smile on his lips. I wonder if he's thinking about his order to kill my Grandmother (my fists clench at that) and the rose he arranged to have left in the ashes. Or maybe he's just wondering if I've made a recovery against all medical odds and is considering recruiting me after all. That thought unnerves me so much, I have to leave the room for a little while to calm down.

All in all, not a great experience.

Finally though, after what seems like an eternity, I am allowed to leave the Capitol and my Victory Tour ends with one final ceremony and feast in district 4. That's not so bad. Most people, although still a little wary of their poor mad victor, are sweet enough. And they don't stare like everyone else in the other districts did. They're used to seeing me around town on the few occasions Finnick manages to drag me out shopping or in his boat or sitting in Jen's little jewellery shop by the harbour and they know I'm not a bomb about to explode.

But still, I'm glad when it's all over and I'm allowed to return to our house in Victor's Village. Much to Mags and Finnick's amusement, I race inside, flopping face down on the sofa, humming with happiness.

My happiness is short lived though, as Finnick is called back to the Capitol a mere month later. I eat, sleep and live pain until he arrives back home exactly sixty two days after he left. He seems glad to be back, of course, but later that night, when I'm curled up in bed with him, using him as a hot water bottle for my feet, he breaks the news to me that he'll be leaving again in a couple of days. Not to the Capitol, he assures me hastily when my jaw drops. He's visiting his good friend Haymitch Abernathy in district 12. I am a little disbelieving and my suspicions grow when he refuses to allow me to join him._ You don't really know him yet_, he tells me, brushing a gentle hand through my hair. _And besides,_ he adds,_ Haymitch takes some getting used to_.

I'm not entirely convinced, but again, I don't really push it very far because apparently, it's quite normal for victors to visit each other. When he leaves a few days later, though, I somehow get the feeling Mags is in on it too. Whatever _it_ is. But he's only gone for about a week and once he's back, I sort of forget about it.

Thankfully, he doesn't leave me again before the 71st Hunger Games nearly three months after that.

Since there are now three living victors of the Games in district 4, the Capitol has put us on rotation and this year, it's me and Finnick mentoring. I've been dreading it ever since they announced my victory in the arena a year ago and the morning of the reaping, I awaken with a horrible hollow feeling in my stomach. It's even worse now than when I used to worry about getting picked.

Finnick is brilliant though. He doesn't let go of my hand once whilst we're on stage.

This year, as with last year, there are no volunteers for the girls and Violet reads out the name of a girl I don't recognise. As she steps out from the section for sixteen year olds, I see that she is tall, willowy and blonde, a classic beauty. She climbs on stage gracefully and with beautiful poise, even if she does look a little shell shocked. A boy – tall, brawny and the perfect Career – volunteers and I recognise him as one of the fisherman's sons.

In the Capitol, the other victors are very welcoming at the party on the first night. Beetee gives me a little nervous wave and a very drunk Chaff sweeps me up in a huge hug. Once I've managed to extricate myself from his grasp, I'm ambushed by Cashmere who squeals over my jewellery. The district 2 mentors aren't as scary as I first anticipated either. Lyme gives me a welcoming but brusque nod whilst Brutus greets me with a hearty slap on the back. Though come to think of it, I very cough my lungs out after that. I'm vaguely suspicious that _that_ might have been his intention.

Finnick introduces me to everyone with pride in his voice and although they're all very nice, I don't leave his side, clinging to him like some kind of sea mollusc.

The week passes by pretty quickly, Finnick teaching me the basics of mentoring - working out angles, securing sponsors etc - and before I know it, our tributes are in the hovercraft on their way to the arena and the Games are about to begin.

Being in the Games was horrific, but _mentoring_ in the Games... well, there are no words for it.

Our first tribute dies in the bloodbath. Our kids had formed an alliance with the Careers, but, much to mine and Finnick's horror, the tributes from 1 and 2 turn on them straight away. The boy manages to escape badly wounded. The girl isn't so lucky.

After watching the boy from 2 – tall, muscular and _curly haired –_ hack her to death with a sword, I collapse in a hysterical heap on the floor, right there and then, in front of all the other mentors. Finnick talks me down, but I'm mortified.

Everyone's _staring_.

I leave the room in tears, somehow finding my way to the mentor's lounge downstairs before curling up in a ball on the sofa. I don't expect anyone to follow me – they've got kids to look out for after all – but the small woman from district 11 with olive skin and dark hair streaked with grey, Seeder, appears next to me on the sofa. She doesn't say anything, just sits there and lets me cry into her shoulder for what feels like an eternity. After I'm all cried out, though, she helps me repair my face and then we both go back upstairs. No one bats an eyelid when I return and I get the impression, they're making a special effort not to. They understand how I feel, I guess.

Seeder walks me down the length of the room, all the way to district 4's booth and Finnick, who's on the phone frantically trying to pacify irritated sponsors. She doesn't really say much, but when I try to apologise for Belle's death last year, she waves me off. _You did what you had to do_, she tells me softly, her beautiful brown and gold eyes kind.

She makes me ache for Ava.

District 4 doesn't get another winner this year. Our boy dies of his injuries some days later and the girl from district 7, about sixteen or seventeen, short and stocky with wide set brown eyes, short spiky hair and a cheeky grin wins instead. I can't help but admire her in a way. She acted all weak and helpless, spending the first part of the Games hiding in the trees and everyone – including us mentors – had completely discounted her. When there were about eight tributes left, though, she got her hands on an axe and went absolutely _crazy_. Just like Finnick and his trident, Johanna Mason was crowned victor within about twenty four hours of finding her weapon.

The train returns to the district 4 station with two less passengers than when it left. Unlike last year, there are no crowds to meet us, no red carpet, no photographers. I feel almost like I've failed. But still, being a mentor has made me realise that actually, once your kids are in the arena, there's nothing you can do.

Finnick must have felt so helpless watching me nearly die a thousand times.

About a week after we return, I observe the first anniversary of my Grandmother's death. It's not really tradition, but Mags, Finnick and his family all accompany me back to the beach to drift another two candles, one for her and one for Ethan. Finnick joins me in the ocean and drifts his own two candles. I don't have to ask him to know they're for his parents.

We stand, side by side, the cold water seeping through our bones, watching as the flickering lights disappear over the horizon. I find myself shivering and Finnick wraps an arm around my waist, bringing me into him and holding me tightly. I rest my cheek against his chest, letting his body heat warm me right down to my toes.

I feel him press his lips to my hair.

"A year." He whispers. "A whole _year_."

"Feels like a lifetime ago since I was here." I reply softly. "Since I was in the arena."

His grip tightens.

"You don't have to think about it anymore." He says. "There's a new victor now, someone to take all of the attention. You're not the Capitol's newest toy anymore."

I think of Johanna. She's pretty, _very_ pretty, and definitely not insane. I wonder if she faces a similar fate to Finnick.

"Poor Johanna." I sigh.

"She _was_ a demon, though." Finnick replies with a chuckle. I smile, lifting my hand to rub an idle thumb across his collarbone.

"More Snow's preferred type of victor than I was." I say reflectively and Finnick drops a kiss on the top of my head.

"Well, thank goodness you weren't." He tells me. "I don't think I could bear it if you had to do what I do."

There is a little silence - the only sound the gentle lap of the waves around us - as we both contemplate what could have been. What _is _for Finnick.

"I _hate_ Snow." I say vehemently, my jaw hardening.

Finnick doesn't reply straight away and when he eventually speaks, his words are deliberate and measured.

"A lot of people do."

I tilt my head back to look up at him, intrigued. His face is unreadable, even illuminated by the moonlight, but there's something in his voice that makes me think he's not just talking about people hating Snow and doing nothing about it.

"How many?" I ask.

His lips purse a little.

"A lot more than you might think." He says. I frown, my eyebrows drawing together confusedly.

"And you would know how?"

He lets out a long breath that whispers through my hair.

"Because it's something I'm involved in."

Although I'd guessed something was up, I'd known something was going on, a violent burst of fear explodes in my chest. My hands fist in his jacket.

"You can't be." I say desperately, staring up at him with wild eyes. "What if Snow finds out? I can't lose you. I _can't."_

"He won't find out." Finnick tells me.

"But what if he does?" I persist anxiously.

"He won't." Finnick assures me, twisting me round so I'm facing him, his hands grasping my upper arms.

"That's what your visit to Haymitch was all about, wasn't it?" I ask. "And that _thing_ with Beetee?"

His eyebrows furrow.

"What _thing_?"

"You know," I say, flapping a hand towards him. "When you spoke to him and you just looked... you just looked... Well, I don't know. And then you lied about it to me later."

"I didn't." He says defensively, before pausing when I raise an eyebrow. "Okay. Maybe I did."

"Does Mags know?" I demand, unable to stop myself from sounding accusatory. Finnick nods once and I feel my face screw up in frustration. Letting out a little growl, I bury my face in his chest. "Mags knows." I say roughly, my voice muffled by his shirt. "How long has she known?"

I hear Finnick sigh.

"Since the beginning."

"Since the beginning." I echo. "When was that?"

"Your Games." He says softly, his arms lifting to encircle me, pulling me back against him.

Disbelief pulses through me. My Games? And he never told me?

He must feel me go rigid against him, because I hear him take a deep unsteady breath.

"I just..." He falters. "I thought you were going to die and I was so furious. At Snow. At the whole damn Capitol." I look back up at him and see his face crease in pain. "When Beetee approached me," He says softly. "I didn't know what to do, and then, and then you _won_ and I wasn't going to join them, I swear. But then I saw you in that hospital bed, screaming and sobbing and just so _broken_... I hated the Capitol more than I ever have in my whole life." His eyes harden. "I went back to Beetee and I said yes."

I stare up at him, still barely comprehending this, confusion and fear quickly overcoming the frustration. Finnick is a rebel?

Finnick is a _rebel_.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask in a small voice. He leans his forehead against mine, his eyes flickering shut, his nose pressing into mine.

"Because it's dangerous what I'm doing." He says with a sigh. "And the less you know, the better."

Tears prick in my eyes.

"You said Snow wouldn't find out."

"He won't." He says, his eyes opening to search mine. "But there are other dangers, Annie. There's a revolution coming. Maybe not for decades, but it's coming. And if I'm still alive when it comes, I want to be there, I want to be on the front lines."

My fingers curl into his chest.

"I _can't_ lose you." I whisper.

"You won't." He says, pressing a gentle kiss just to the side of my mouth.

"Don't do this." I plead quietly, my bottom lip beginning to tremble. "Drop out. _Please_."

"No." He says, pulling back and shaking his head determinedly. "I can't, Annie. I _want_ to do this."

"Please." I say tearfully. "For me."

"I'm _doing_ this for you." He tells me gently, letting go of me with one arm to tuck a strand of windswept hair behind my ear. "I want a future for us, for our children. I want us to be able to live without the shadow of the Games, Annie. I want a world where I can love you without worrying Snow will hurt you if I mess up. I want a world where our children won't be in danger of the Games."

And then because he said _our_ children, the tears are trickling down my cheeks and I can't seem to do anything about it.

"Hey hey." Finnick says, letting go of me completely to cup my face gently between his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears. His eyes search my face worriedly. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

I have to take a few shaky breaths before I can speak.

"You want a future for us?" I whisper in a wobbly voice. His expression clears and a relieved smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

"Of course I do."

"And children?" I ask. He nods.

"Yes. I want children with you, Annie."

"Really?" I ask. I have a feeling my eyes might be shining.

"Yes." He says with a little chuckle. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Annie. I love you more than anything."

"I love you too." I tell him. The smile on his lips becomes a broad grin.

"Well, in that case," He says, releasing my face and straightening. "Can I ask you something?"

I smile fondly up at him, one of my hands finding his, our fingers interlocking.

"Of course."

He hesitates for a minute, the grin fading from his face and I wait expectantly, my eyebrows raised.

"Finnick?" I ask eventually when no question is forthcoming. A little embarrassed smile creeps across his lips.

"Yeah?"

"Spit it out." I order with a teasing smile. He heaves a great big sigh.

"I'm just trying to work out how to ask it." He says slowly. I stare at him in confusion.

"How to ask it?" I echo. "How hard can it be, Finn? I don't mind what you ask me, just go ahead and..."

"Will you marry me?" He interrupts suddenly.

I blink up at him.

"What?"

"Will you marry me?" He repeats, slower this time.

I'm still staring at him, my mouth open, my eyes wide.

"I-I..." I try to tell him yes yes _yes _but the words stick in my throat. I'm sort of still in shock.

Finnick suddenly looks nervous.

"I mean, we don't have to get married for ages if you don't want." He begins apprehensively. "We can have a long engagement, like three or four years? I just... I just wanted to ask you so you know that I love you and I want to be with you forever. I want..."

And then because I love him and I want to be with him forever too but _still_ can't get my voice to work, I shut him up by throwing myself at him, leaping from the water to fling my arms around his neck and wrap my legs around his waist.

He lets out a little noise of alarm, staggering back a few steps to catch his balance, and, now level with his face, I laugh at his startled expression, bringing a hand up to stroke a thumb across his cheek. Apparently recovering from my surprise attack, he grins back, his hands sliding round to grasp my thighs and pull them more securely around his hips. He opens his mouth to speak again, but before he does, I lean forward and press my lips to his. He doesn't even try to continue what he wanted to say, instead kissing me enthusiastically back.

We kiss for a few minutes, one of my hands entwining in his hair, one of his sliding up inside the bottom of my coat to grasp my hip, and an overwhelming sense of contentment overtakes me.

Finnick loves me. He wants to spend the rest of his life with me. He wants to _marry_ me.

And then he suddenly shifts my weight in his arms and pulls away to look at me. His eyes are slightly glazed – as are mine I'm sure – but then he blinks a few times and they refocus, glinting wickedly in the moonlight, a mischievous grin settling on his face.

"I'm guessing that's a yes, then." He asks, quirking an eyebrow.

I laugh again, bringing my hands round to cup his face.

"Yes." I say happily. "It's a yes."

* * *

...

* * *

_Ahh I had to have a proposal in there, didn't I? They can have a long engagement and then I'm sure the events of the 74th Hunger Games and the growing rebellion might convince Finnick to prolong it. I thought it was a nice note to end on XD_

_So there we are. Annie's Story. Took a while didn't it? Gah, I'm getting all emotional now! I've got to thank you all for your continued support. Honestly, I'd never have even made it to the Games without all your lovely reviews. So yeah, thanks to everyone who's added this to their favourites, or alerted or reviewed and a special thanks to all my serial reviewers ;) I LOVE YOU GUYS!_

_Remember to leave me a review. Let me know what you think about the epilogue and just the whole story in general. Favourite moment? Favourite character? Favourite chapter? I'm sure Finnick might get a few mentions ;)_

_Anyway, thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it. I may do a sequel, (I'll add the first chapter of it to this story too if I do write one, so you'll all be updated about it) but well, the events of Catching Fire and Mockingjay upset me :( I am also planning a fic revolving around the 50th Hunger Games and Haymitch & Maysilee, so yeah, if you think that might interest you, add me to your author alerts._

_Lots of love,_

_Maisie xox_

**_PS Keep an eye out for Suffering on the Sidelines updates! That's my next focus, since I haven't updated it in AGES! For those who don't know, it's Finnick's view of this story, so yeah, for a look inside the wonderful mind of Finnick Odair, pop over and have a read :P_**

**_EDIT: I can now confirm there will be a SEQUEL to Annie's Story. I am undecided as to how it will end though. Happy? Or stick with canon? I've set up a poll (shown on my profile page) and I want everyone to vote. Go do it now! XD_**


	36. Ten Seconds (Bonus Chapter)

**Hi everyone, I'm back! Well, sort of. I know a lot of you will be hoping that this is the sequel, and I'm afraid it's not yet... but I'm hoping you'll all enjoy this too! It's a bonus chapter (a flippin' massive bonus chapter!) from Ethan's pov, showing his final day in the arena. ****Am I milking this story for all its worth? Yes, I am. Do I care? Not particularly... it's my baby :)**

**Anyway, I've written this partly because I wanted to, partly to say a huge thank you to everyone who's favourited/alerted/reviewed this story, and partly to make up for slow movement on Suffering on the Sidelines and the sequel. (By the way...Suffering on the Sidelines is my next priority! I'm hoping to have a new chapter up within a week or two. I've also started my Haymitch/Maysilee fic, and the next chapter is very nearly ready!)**

**A few notes: The chapter picks up from the cannon after Jasmine's death and Ella is Ethan's little sister. Also, I've changed the river scene in chapter twenty one of this fic ever so slightly and added in a small scene before that. Not huge changes, just things that have evolved as I wrote this.**

**So yeah, thank you so much, please drop us a review and let me know what you think, and most of all... e****njoy x**

_**PS For sequel information, see a/n at the end of this chapter.**_

* * *

**CHAPTER THIRTY SIX - TEN SECONDS**

* * *

_They say a person can survive for ten seconds after being decapitated..._

_Here are Ethan Marborough's._

* * *

I wake to the sound of a cannon firing somewhere in the distance, the ground vibrating slightly underneath my ear.

For one horrible moment, I think it's Annie, and Ash has killed her and I _never_ should have let them share a watch together... but then I sit up and I see her, still alive, sitting a little way away, propped up against a tree.

There's a small figure slumped across her lap.

Oh.

Beside me, Reuben hangs his head, his eyes squeezing tightly shut, like he's praying, or just struggling not to cry. I can't tell which.

I meet Annie's gaze and although she's shadowed by the dying fire, I can read her expression like I can read the clouds back home in 4. Guilty. She feels guilty. I go to tell her that it's not her fault, that Jasmine was so badly hurt she hadn't really got a chance, that we did all we could - _dammit_ Annie sacrificed some of her own sponsor gift to help her - but then Annie's eyes flicker downwards towards the forest floor and I see there's a small white plastic bottle half concealed in the grass beside her knee. I recognise the label. I have some in my own rucksack.

Oh.

There's a silence as everyone in the camp notices the morphine, puts two and two together, and realises that Annie Cresta has made her first kill.

No. Not her first kill. I have no doubt that Jasmine agreed to take those tablets. She was already fading like a light when we set up camp.

"She's not hurting anymore." I say softly and Annie nods, pulling her bottom lip under her teeth. I can see she's close to tears. My own throat closes up and I can't say anything else, because if I do, my voice might crack.

Beside me, Reuben's head lifts and he untangles himself from his sleeping bag, pulling himself slowly to his feet. His expression is pained.

"I'll take her." He says. He crouches down and gently takes Jasmine's slumped form into his arms, before moving up and away towards the bushes, holding her as if she is just asleep and might wake up if he jostles her too much.

He disappears into the bushes, and I know he's taking her far enough away to be collected and returned to her family. There's a few minute's pause - even Ash and Seela maintain a respectful silence - but then Ash stretches, sighing contentedly, and a grin settles on his face. I glare at him – _insensitive git_ – but he barely notices.

"Man." He says. "I'm tired. Is my watch over yet?"

I shoot a glance towards Annie whose head is down. I wonder if she's crying.

"Yeah." I say. "Me and Seela will take over."

Seela looks unimpressed.

"Me?"

"Yeah, you." I wriggle out of my sleeping bag and begin lacing up my boots. "You haven't been on watch yet at all."

"It's only been one night." She says. "And I couldn't watch with Ash, could I?"

She has a point. We've all already agreed that no tributes from the same district will stay up on watch together. My suggestion, of course. I don't trust Ash and Seela as far as I can throw them. In fact, not even that.

That does mean, though, that I can't be on watch with Annie, and there are things we need to discuss. Not to mention that she's the best company here.

I concede with a sigh.

"Fine. But you're on watch with me now, okay?"

Seela rolls her eyes, but makes a move towards getting up.

"Sure thing, district 4." She drawls. I glance at her irritably, but she just grins, looking for all the world like a goddamn snake.

Ash begins to prepare for bed, but Annie doesn't move.

"Annie?" I ask tentatively. "You okay?" She doesn't answer, still doesn't stir either. "Annie?" I probe again.

Her head lifts.

"What?"

"Me and Seela are taking over on watch. You want to get some sleep?"

"Oh." She says, glancing between us all. I see her eyes are pink, like she has shed a few tears and then suppressed them. "Right. Okay. Thanks." She stands and starts sorting herself out for bed, but her mind is obviously elsewhere and she's moving almost like she's sleep walking. As she settles into her sleeping bag, I take her place by the tree, resting my harpoon across my legs. Seela drags her bed roll into position opposite me, spreading it out across the grass and stretching out across it. She reclines leisurely on her side, propping her head up with her hand, her elbow on the ground.

The shadows of the fire cast the sharp lines of her face into high relief and despite the sleep messed hair and slightly tired looking eyes, she looks even darker and fiercer than she does in daylight.

…Which takes some doing.

I eye her warily and she smiles.

"Do I make you uncomfortable, Ethan?"

I don't like it when she calls me by my first name. It's too... friendly. And Seela doesn't do friendly.

"No." I say, resting my head back against the tree and shutting my eyes. I don't care to see the smirk I know is on her face.

I hear her laugh softly.

"Pity."

I ignore that and she doesn't speak again either. Reuben returns after a few more minutes looking solemn and gets back into his sleeping bag without another word. Ash is already snoring. Loudly.

I watch Annie shifting in her sleeping bag for a while. I know she's not asleep. Every so often she takes a shuddering breath, like she might be crying.

Seela can hear her too and I can tell by the look on her face that she thinks Annie is weak. But she's not. She's just a different kind of strong to people like me and Seela and Ash, and maybe even Reuben.

Annie was the only one who made sure everyone was out of that acid rain. She was the only one who cared enough to notice Jasmine was lagging behind. She was the only one brave enough to go back into that rain and save her.

And maybe, because of that, Annie Cresta is the strongest of us all.

* * *

...

* * *

"You asleep, Marborough?"

My eyes fly open.

"No."

I might have been. Nearly.

Opposite me, Seela crosses her arms, leaning back against the tree and the look on her face suggests she's not convinced.

"Good," is all she says though. "I'm bored."

"Bored?" I echo. Any moment in the arena that's quiet enough to be classed as 'boring' is a blessing as far as I'm concerned.

"Yeah." Seela replies airily, flicking at something on her knee."Bored."

"How can you be bored?" I ask disbelievingly. "Jasmine just _died_."

Her head lifts and she raises her eyebrows, unimpressed.

"_Hours_ ago."

I stare at her. I can't even answer that. Did she not see how much Jasmine was hurting? How awful and prolonged her death was? My gaze snaps over to the shape in the sleeping bag I know is Annie on the other side of the fire. The sniffles stopped about an hour ago and I assume she's asleep now. Better that she is. Especially if Seela is going to minimise Jasmine's death like that.

I turn back to Seela, fixing her with a glare. She snorts with amusement.

"You're so _moral_." She says with a smirk. She says moral like it's something to be ashamed of; something to laugh at. Maybe it is in district 2.

"In district 4," I reply, thinking of Annie, comparing her morals – the morals that sent her back into that rain – with Seela whose morals didn't jar with giving a little girl a slow death. "That's a good thing."

"But you're not in 4 now, are you?" She shoots back.

"No." I admit, before adding boldly. "But when I go home, I don't want anyone to think badly of me."

A slow sharkish grin spreads across Seela's face.

"And you're going home, are you?" Her voice is teasing, but there's an edge. She's challenging me.

I regard her steadily back.

"I plan to." There's a twinge in my chest as a little voice inside lets me know for the millionth time that if I go home, Annie doesn't. And neither does Reuben. Or Elenna. Or any of the other innocent kids the Capitol dumped in this arena. Belle, Mia, Jasmine, Preese, the boy from 12 whose name I didn't know but whose chest I sent a harpoon through anyway, all the kids that have died already... none of them will ever go home.

It'll just be me.

And my family. I've got to remember that. Ella. I need to think of Ella. Her little happy face, her curly blonde hair and ready smile. I'll see her again, I know.

Pushing all thoughts of Annie and her grandmother and Reuben and the brothers he told me about during training, I tilt my chin up, keeping my gaze level with Seela's.

Now _she's_ one tribute I won't regret getting rid of. For Mia and Belle if nothing else.

"I'm going back to 4." I continue firmly. "I'm going home."

Seela's smile widens, one dark eyebrow arching almost coyly. Goddammit, she's mental.

"You'll have to survive the alliance first." She sneers. I harden my gaze in response.

"So will you."

"I have Ash." She replies. "And you..." - here her tone dips derisively - "_You_ have Annie."

It's clear what she thinks of my district partner.

"You underestimate her." I argue. "She's tough."

"Not as tough as me, or Ash, or Reuben, or even you."

"Well." I say. "Not physically."

"She's the weakest left." Seela says. "She'll be next to go." She grins at me, her teeth flashing white in the dim light. "Unless you get in the way, of course."

There's something in her voice... something odd... and then it hits me.

It's like when Ella used to sit in the corner and beam and beam and say these really weird things, and then it'd turn out she'd got a surprise for me, and she was so excited and so proud of herself she couldn't keep the secret.

Seela has a surprise for me, but I'll bet anything it's not a good one.

I watch her thoughtfully and although she's regarding me back as innocent as a little child, she's obviously made her plans - plans to get rid of me and Annie. We're their greatest competition at the moment, because apart from them, we're the only tributes in this arena working as a team. I expect we're the only tributes in this arena that would risk injury, even death, to help each other, even if we both really want to get home.

Annie and I have as much chance of making it to the final two as Ash and Seela and they know it.

Not that I'd want it to be down to me and Annie, of course, but that's beside the point. The point being that the 2s have obviously made a plan to kill me and Annie and I'll bet it's set to take place soon.

I get the urge to just leg it now because I want to fight Ash and Seela on my terms and preferably not in a battle to escape the alliance. I would much prefer to slip away unseen and take them by surprise in a few days, a little further into the Games.

But I don't run. I stay seated against the tree, looking as oblivious as I can. No doubt Seela doesn't want me to know she has a plan.

"Annie is tough." I repeat. "And she's brave. Braver than you." Seela sniggers. "Plus," I add smugly. "Both of us have long range weapons. You don't."

She stops sniggering. Anxiety flashes briefly across her face, but it's so quickly replaced by her trademark arrogance that I wonder whether I imagined it.

"I don't see your point." She replies.

"Watch your back, Seela." I say bluntly. "I may be moral, but I'm not opposed to killing. You of all people know that."

We stare at each other, like a pair of animals sizing each other up, conscious of every breath the other takes. I remember our last stand off, back at the beginning of the Games, when it was me who backed down.

Not this time though. Seela suddenly relaxes, leaning back against the tree.

"I wouldn't mind it if it were you and I in the final two, Ethan." She says. "It would be..." She pauses, as if searching for the right word, but then her lips twist upwards into a cold smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "_...Explosive_."

* * *

...

* * *

Unsurprisingly, our conversation doesn't continue after that, except for the odd _you still awake? _when one of us looks like they might be about to drop off. The fire burns out, leaving glowing embers and blackened wood behind, but that's okay, because the sun is starting to come up, spilling light across the forest.

I rake a hand through my hair, grimacing as my fingers get caught in the tangles. I could do with a hot shower right about now, but I'm guessing grubby hair is going to be the least of my worries today. What with the Careers dropping like flies and the Gamemakers seemingly sending everything they've got in our direction, I wouldn't be surprised if something big happens today. And I'm not trusting Ash and Seela either. I've already realised they've got a plan but I have no idea what exactly they're going to do and when they're going to do it either.

I make a mental note to keep a close eye on the pair of them and to never ever let Annie leave my sight.

…Until we split up that is, but I'm not thinking about that right now.

Seela suddenly stretches opposite me, yawning widely.

"I need to pee." She announces, climbing to her feet. I wrinkle my nose.

"Thanks for that."

She tosses her hair, but doesn't reply, instead fitting her sabres into her belt and disappearing off into the bushes.

Across the clearing, Ash suddenly stirs, grunting in a very ungainly fashion before slumping back down again and restarting his snores. I snort in disgust, my eyes drifting across to where Annie is still fast asleep a little way from Reuben and Ash.

She's curled up in a ball, her back to me, her dark hair splayed out across the forest floor. My chest constricts in a way that's growing increasingly familiar.

This is so _unfair_. Why did this happen to me? Why was it _my_ name pulled out of that damn ball? I think of my mother saying goodbye with tears in her eyes, of Ella clinging to legs crying _don't go don't go don't go_ over and over, of my father slapping me on the back, trying to look like he wasn't about to break into pieces…

I think of Annie. The way she'd rolled her eyes at me before the chariot ride when Austin appeared with those harpoons. The way she'd smiled at her first bullseye with that spear. The way she'd laughed in the interviews, shining like the sun beneath the stage lights.

Why did my district partner have to be Annie Cresta? She's too likeable, too kind, too infectiously bright. I remember watching her teaching Belle, that slip of a thing from 11, the one Seela _murdered_, how to knot up a simple net back in training. How the pair of them had been bent over a coil of rope, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. And then Annie had said something, and Belle had giggled like a little girl. She was a little girl, though wasn't she?

And Annie is barely more than that. Just as I sometimes feel I'm barely more than a kid myself.

How am I going to kill her? How can I even watch someone else kill her?

I remember my conversation with Finnick the night before the Games. He told me that when the time comes – if it ends up down to me or Annie - I'll do what I have to do. That I'll kill Annie Cresta, because I want to go home, because if I don't, then I'll never see Ella or my mom, or my dad or the sea and district 4 ever again.

But I'd seen his expression when he said that. He doesn't want Annie to die.

I think he'd rather I did.

I swallow. Hard.

I know it's not his fault, it must do things to you… getting to know kids from your home, watching them die every year, knowing that you were their only chance of survival and that you let them down...and Finnick isn't much older than us. Annie is a pretty girl. A nice girl. You can't do anything but like her. You can't do anything but care about her, because she cares about you and just about everyone else. And Finnick, well, even I could see he and Annie clicked. He enjoyed teasing her, he enjoyed being around her.

I don't blame him for falling for her just a little bit.

I might have done the same. In a different time, a different place.

I shake my head. _Gah_. I must be going insane.

And then before I have time for any more disturbing thoughts, a rustling in the bushes catches my attention. My harpoon is in my hand and aimed by the time Seela bursts through the bushes. I drop my harpoon with a sigh, slumping back against the tree as she skids to a halt at the edge of the clearing. A grin stretches across her face and there's an excited, dangerous glint in her eye.

"I've found a trail." She says.

* * *

...

* * *

Five minutes later and I'm stuffing my sleeping bag into my rucksack. Well, trying to anyway. Reuben gives me a hand and I shoot him a grateful grin.

"Wake her up, Marborough." Ash suddenly appears above me, his arms folded, his expression sour. He's talking about Annie, of course. She's still fast asleep, curled up in her sleeping bag at the edge of camp. I'd been reluctant to wake her. I'm not sure how much sleep she got last night.

"Just give her a couple more minutes." I say. "We're not ready to move yet anyway."

"I am." Ash retorts. I roll my eyes. Jerk.

"I'm not." Reuben mutters, lacing up his boots. "I need a few minutes anyhow." His fingers fumble slightly. "Rough night."

"Pathetic." Ash sneers down at him.

My head snaps up and I'm suddenly absolutely sick of him.

"For god's sake, Ash, just shut the hell _up_."

Predictably, Ash is immediately as angry... no, _angrier_ than I am. His fists clench.

"Don't talk to me like that!"

I stand, slinging my backpack over my shoulder, and fix him with an exasperated look.

"I'll stop if you stop. Jasmine was a good kid, Ash and you should show her and Preese a bit of respect."

Ash lets out a growl, and instead of replying, stalks over to where Annie is still cocooned in her blankets.

"Oi, Cresta." He boots her in the side. "Time to get moving."

"Hey." I snap. Dammit. Why is he such a prick?

Annie stirs, rolling onto her back and squinting up at Ash.

"What?" She mumbles sleepily, wiping a hand across her face.

"Time to get moving." He repeats, speaking slowly and deliberately like she's stupid. Annie moans faintly and shuts her eyes once more. He kicks her again. Hard. "Get up!"

"Leave it, Ash." I say tiredly. Ash turns to scowl at me and behind him, Annie starts to sit up, rubbing her eyes.

"We want to get moving."

"Yeah and we will." I say, going over towards the pair of them. "Just cut her some slack, okay?"

Annie's shoulders slump a little and I push past Ash to crouch beside her.

"Annie." I say. "Are you alright?"

She nods, taking her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Yeah." She says, her voice rasping painfully. Her eyes are a little red and squinty and I guess she might have cried herself to sleep last night. She coughs and looks down, apparently not wanting to meet my gaze. I read it immediately in her expression and body language that she's embarrassed. She doesn't want to appear weak and although _I_ know she's not, crying over another tribute's death isn't something that gets you sponsors. That's the only reason I've put everything I have into maintaining perfect composure.

I wonder if I'll manage it when _Annie_ dies.

I push the thought away with a shake of my head. Not something I'm going to think about yet. It makes my stomach feel funny.

From behind me, Ash lets out a growl.

"Get up." He says impatiently, glaring at Annie. "Seela's found a trail."

* * *

...

* * *

"How are you feeling?"

Annie glances at me sideways, her lips pursing.

"I'm okay."

"You sure?" I ask, ducking under a branch. She smiles, but it's not a proper smile.

"Yeah. I guess so."

We're walking side by side through the forest, a little way behind Seela, who is powering ahead, her nose to the ground. Not literally, of course, but she's in tracking mode, following a careless tribute who has left behind a few footprints and a couple of broken twigs.

Annie hasn't said a word since we moved off from camp earlier this morning. I've kept away, given her some space, but I'm worried about her.

Dammit. I'm _worried_ about her. I _am_ going insane.

"I killed her." Annie says suddenly. I glance at her but she's got her hand across her face. "Oh god." Her hand moves to her mouth and tears spring up in her eyes. "I killed her. I _killed_ her."

"Oh Annie..." I say softly. "Annie. _Don't_."

"I killed her." She whispers again.

"And I killed Mia." I say and inside, my heart clenches. "And the boy from 12. It's just what happens here."

She's silent for a second and as we reach a particularly dense patch of forest, I fall a little behind her. I can't see her face, but her shoulders are hunched, her hand still across her mouth.

"Annie?" I ask anxiously, pulling level with her again. She shakes her head.

"No. No." She dabs at her eyes with the cuff of her jacket. "I'm fine." Her voice catches and she coughs awkwardly. "I'm fine."

"You sure?" I turn my head to eye her worriedly. "Because you know it's not your fault, Jasmine agreed to take those pills. It was her choi..." Annie's eyes suddenly widen.

"Ethan!" She interrupts, her hand lifting in warning.

I turn my head just in time to walk nose first into a low hanging branch.

"Oof!" I stagger backwards, my hand lifting to rub my poor nose. "Oh _damn_!"

Annie giggles, trying to hide it behind her hand. And although my nose hurts like hell, I suddenly don't mind because I made her smile. And her smile looks a lot better than her tears.

I grin back at her.

"I'm sorry." She says."I shouldn't have laughed. You okay?"

"Yeah." I say with a laugh. "I'm fine."

"You sure?" Her voice wobbles like she's trying not to laugh again. There are still tears in her eyes, but she's laughing.

"Yeah." I say again. "I'm fine."

* * *

...

* * *

I stick close to Annie as we carry on through the forest, following the most round about trail I've ever seen, but I don't try and talk to her again. I don't want to hassle her.

She trudges along a little way ahead of me, the top of her head barely visible over that huge, now slightly frayed and scorched rucksack, and I follow, bringing up the rear of the Career pack. I contemplate talking with her about leaving the alliance, but Seela and Ash are only a little way ahead and I can't risk it.

I duck beneath a low lying branch. I'll tell her later. Meanwhile, I'm just going to concentrate on not smacking myself in the face again. My nose is still sore from last time.

I'm just straightening and readjusting the straps of my backpack when a loud low rumble begins… somewhere deep beneath the surface of the earth.

I stop where I am, Annie halting just in front of me. The ground groans beneath us and suddenly begins to judder. Annie staggers, thrown off balance, but I grab her arm and yank her upright, keeping myself on my feet by automatically shifting my weight to counteract the roll of the ground. It's like being on a boat, I tell myself. Like being on the ocean.

I focus on keeping my balance, and that keeps me from panicking... because well, the _ground_ is moving, and the ground is _not_ meant to move.

Annie throws me a grateful glance, but before I can say anything, an ear-splitting crack echoes across the arena. I flinch, my hands lifting briefly to my ears. It sounds like thunder, only a hundred times louder. The echo undulates like a wave, surging through the trees and rolling round and round the cliff faces, until it eventually fades away The ground gives one last grudging creak, and then the world stops shifting around us.

The whole forest falls silent.

A beat.

"What," Seela asks, turning round towards us. "Was _that_?"

But then she falters, her lips parting in silent surprise. Her eyes dart up and land on something above and behind us, and her expression rearranges itself into something resembling horror.

Annie and I turn at the same time, and my breath catches in my throat.

_Oh_.

"The dam." I hear Annie whisper from behind me.

And the dam it damn well is. The huge dam mounted in the cliffs on the far end of the arena – the one that's undoubtedly holding back a whole lot of water – has cracked. It's _cracked_. I wonder how much more water is pouring into the arena, and where it all might be going.

We all stand and stare at the fractured dam in silence. Obviously this is the Gamemakers' doing. Is it because there haven't been many deaths? Are the Capitol crowds baying for blood?

Is it a warning?

"Oi Cresta." Ash breaks the silence with his apparent new favourite phrase. "Get up a tree and see what happened."

I turn to glare at him even as Annie is untangling herself from that massive backpack.

"We _know_ what happened." I say pointedly. "The dam cracked."

"It's fine." Annie says, squinting up at the nearest tree, seemingly sizing it up with the intention of climbing it. "We should probably take a look anyway."

I don't speak again while Annie climbs the tree, swinging herself up with agility I'm sure is surprising a few of the viewers. She settles herself in the topmost branches, her hand wrapped around the trunk as she leans out of the tree for a better view.

"Annie!" Reuben hails her. "What do you see?" She cranes her neck, stretching up on her tip toes and the branch sways dangerously…

"Uh." She catches her balance and I breathe a little sigh of relief. "Hang on."

And then she scrambles back down the tree like a little monkey, landing with a thud beside us.

"It's pretty much cracked the whole way through." She says a smidge breathlessly."And as far as I can tell, the rivers are a lot fuller and faster."

"So the dam's letting in more water?" Reuben clarifies. She nods, confirming my suspicions. Ash folds his arms.

"Why did they crack it?" He asks irritably. "Couldn't they just adjust the flow or something?"

There's a pause and I then I speak, my voice hardening and setting like stone.

"It's much more dramatic this way." I say.

Annie catches my gaze and silent understanding passes between us. We both recognise the significance of the broken dam. The Games aren't exciting enough and the Gamemakers are giving us one last chance. They don't want me and Annie to slip away from the alliance in the dead of the night, they want blood and guts and gore... and preferably some drama along the way.

I've tried to give them something. I've gotten close to Annie (unfortunately, actually befriending her along the way) and given them friendship. I've hinted at a little something between her and Finnick and given them romance, even if a lot of it was exaggerated on mine and Finnick's part.

But obviously, it's not enough.

I suddenly panic that me and Annie won't be able to get away, that the Gamemakers will engineer a huge battle we might not make it out of alive.

Our only hope is to catch someone today, catch and murder another tribute in some suitably horrific fashion. My stomach churns because I'm fed up of blood. But I'm not ready to die yet and I'd rather it was someone else's blood spilled than mine or Annie's, or maybe even Reuben's.

"Let's keep moving," Annie says suddenly, her voice icily calm. "Those tributes aren't going to hunt themselves."

I nod solemnly in response.

Took the words right out of my mouth, Annie Cresta.

* * *

...

* * *

Earlier I'd wondered how much more water is now pouring through the dam and into the arena... and now I've got my answer.

A lot.

We're standing in front of the river at the exact same point we crossed yesterday and we're all a bit stumped to be honest. Because the rocks we used to cross yesterday are practically underwater. The river has risen right up to the bank and the water is gushing across the lower rocks, so fast and fierce I know it'd knock us off my feet if we tried to wade through. Even the higher rocks, the ones above the waterline, are soaked and I can tell they'll be difficult to cross. Treacherous, in fact.

"Do you think we should try further down?" Seela asks nervously.

No one replies for a minute and I eye the rocks, calculating the best route.

"No." I decide eventually. "We can get across, it'll just be more difficult. I'll lead. Everyone follow my route exactly."

And so we start across the river, single file. I go first, and then Ash, followed by Annie and Seela, with Reuben bringing up the rear. The rocks are slippery, but I try to take the driest route possible, heading upwards across the uneven formations, keeping a firm grip where I can.

I get the feeling that if I lose my footing and fall, no one will fish me out.

Now _there's_ an idea. I briefly contemplate pitching Ash into the river and a little smirk traces my lips at the thought.

"Everyone managing okay?" I call without looking. Ash grunts his well being. "Annie?" I ask.

"Yeah..."She calls back assuringly. But then there's a panicked cry from Seela and Annie's words dissolve into a startled shriek. I whirl round, nearly stumbling but catching hold of a rock just in time, to see Annie and Seela lose their balance and _fall_. Reuben grabs the back of Seela's collar, swaying slightly with the jolt of her weight, but then grabbing hold of a jagged rock and heaving her back to safety.

But no one catches Annie.

At the same moment Reuben catches Seela, Annie rolls down the jagged side of the rock face. Her scream dies as she plunges head-first into the raging water.

And then she disappears.

_No_..._ No, no, no!_

I am vaguely aware of Reuben shouting and a Seela screech as he deposits her roughly onto a rock shelf, but then I take off, racing across the rocks towards the bank, searching the water desperately for any sign of Annie.

But I can't see her. _I can't see her!_

She surfaces, just for a moment, her arms thrashing wildly as she struggles to keep above the water, but then she's back under, disappearing again beneath the froth.

"Annie!" I bellow.

Even in my panic, a stray thought passes through my mind...

_If she dies now, I won't have to kill her later._

But with that thought comes a wave of nausea and I know that if I let her die, if I don't get her out of that damn river, then I'll never ever forgive myself.

My eyes rove the water, the panic in my chest so intense it's actually getting hard to breathe. Where _is_ she? Was there a cannon? God, she's gone. She's _gone_.

"I can't see her." Reuben appears behind me. He rakes both hands through his hair, his whole face crumpling. "God, not another one. Not yet."

My heart sinks.

I'm sorry Finnick. I'm sorry Mags.

...I'm sorry Annie.

"There!" Reuben suddenly thrusts out his hand, pointing across the river. "She's over there!"

I see her - clinging on to a shelf of rock a little way down the river – and then I'm off again, sprinting down the bank towards her. The water is swirling around her, slamming her up against the sharp rocks. Her head dips beneath the surface again – _no!_ – but then she's back up again, groping for a handhold. I can tell she's struggling, though. She can't seem to pull herself out and I can see her slipping.

"Annie!" I yell as I reach the line of rocks stretching out across the river.

Her head jerks up but she nearly loses her handhold, flailing for a second but then catching her grip. Throwing my rucksack to the ground, I begin to manoeuvre quickly across the rocks, stumbling slightly in my haste. I lose sight of her as I get closer and I just pray that she'll still be where I last saw her when I get there.

"Annie!"

I throw myself to my knees, practically launching myself over the edge as I lean down to seize hold of her wrist. She looks up at me, her eyes wide with panic, and a strange sort of water logged cry escapes her lips as another wave almost takes her back under.

I heave her upwards and I feel her kick, trying to help me. Good job too. Annie may not weigh much, but she's absolutely sodden and the rucksack on her back isn't helping matters. I throw my arms around her waist as soon as I can and haul her bodily up and onto the rocks, dropping her down beside me. She collapses face down, her head buried in her arms, and for a second I worry that I've killed her.

But then she starts coughing up water and relief floods my body, so intense I can almost taste it. I pull myself to my knees beside her.

"Annie." I shake her shoulder. "Annie, talk to me!"

She makes a kind of _uhghh_ noise, but stays where she is, struggling to catch her breath. She seems okay, but I can't wait any longer and I grab hold of her, flipping her over and pulling her into a sitting position. I hold her shoulders – I have the sneaking suspicion if I don't she might sag like a ragdoll – and make her look at me.

"Annie. Annie, are you alright?"

Her lips – now stained a faint blue – move, but no words come out. She's shaking and her skin is far too pale, and I realise she's frozen. I untangle her from her backpack – damn thing – before unzipping her from her jacket and pulling her out of her soaked fleece. I wrap my own jacket around her shoulders and rub my palms up and down her arms.

She's still looking a little dazed and there are scrapes and scratches across her face.

"C-c-cold." She stutters.

"I know, honey." I say, throwing her backpack over my shoulder and taking her into my arms. Dammit, she's like an ice block. "Let's get you back on dry land, eh?"

I stand, lifting her with me and she slumps into my chest. She's shivering uncontrollably and I see her work her throat a few times, apparently having trouble finding her voice again.

"Wh-what happened?" She asks, her teeth chattering, as I start back across the rocks, taking extra care now I've got her to worry about too.

My jaw tightens as for the first time I actually think about how Annie ended up in the river.

"Seela slipped and took you with her."

"D-did she f-fall too?" Annie asks with difficulty. _I wish._

"No." I say shortly. "Reuben caught her."

She slumps again.

"Oh."

There is a pause and I put all of my concentration into getting back to the bank without dropping her or falling in the water myself. I feel her let out a shaky sigh.

"I lost my spear." She says and she sounds so mournful, I can't help but smile.

"It's okay." I say, shifting her weight slightly to manoeuvre over a rock. "I'll get you another one from the cornucopia."

She smiles back at me, but it's a bit wobbly and her lips are still a horrible shade of blue.

"Th-thanks." She says. "You know... f-for..." She trails off awkwardly, her gaze lifting tentatively to mine. I don't reply – what can I say? – and she suddenly looks troubled.. "You-you didn't have to come and get me."

"I did." I say simply, ending our conversation. I don't want her gratitude. I don't want her to feel indebted. Not when in a few days time, we're going to be enemies.

I realise that in saving her, I've made everything a hundred times harder. I can't kill her it seems, and apparently,I can't allow anything – or _anyone_ – else to kill her either.

Which leaves me with a bit of a problem, really, doesn't it?

I shake my head as if trying to dislodge the thought. I won't think about it. I don't have to decide anything yet. I can just pretend that when the time comes, I'll do what I have to do. I'll kill Ash and Seela and Reuben and… and Annie.

By the time I reach the bank, the others are already waiting for us, Reuben anxiously bobbing up and down on the spot. Seela, meanwhile, looks slightly subdued. That's been her nearest miss so far in the arena. Her gaze settles on Annie in my arms and a strange expression hardens her face. I can't work out what it is. Contempt? Disgust? Jealousy? I think she knows that if it was her who'd fallen in and not Annie, no one would have gone out of their way to rescue her.

I place Annie gently on the ground and almost immediately, Reuben has a blanket around her.

"You alright?" He asks. Annie nods, her corners of her mouth tugging upwards in a very unconvincing smile. "I'm sorry." Reuben chews on his lip. "I tried to catch you."

"No." Annie replies, shaking her head. "N-no. It's fine."

"You were underwater such a long time..." He says wonderingly. I crouch beside my half drowned district partner, rubbing a comforting hand up her back.

"I guess being able to hold your breath for an eternity has come in handy, after all." I say in an attempt at joviality. Annie manages a weak smile.

"Yeah, I g-guess so."

Ash appears next to us, dumping Annie's rucksack unceremoniously in her lap.

"Let's get moving." He says.

_You what?!_

My head jerks up angrily.

"What the hell, Ash?"

"We should keep moving." He shoots back, returning my glare. I am absolutely incredulous.

"Annie just nearly _drowned_."

"Yeah." Ash says unmoved. "Seems like she's been slowing us down a lot recently."

Annie's face drops and then I can't see her because I'm on my feet, hot fury searing through my chest.

"What the hell are you talking about, Ash?" I snarl. "Annie was managing find on those rocks until _she_ - " I jab a vicious finger in Seela's direction - "threw her off."

"It wasn't deliberate." Seela snaps.

I roll my eyes.

"Uh yeah. _Right_."

"It wasn't!" She sends a scornful look Annie's way. "It's not my fault she fell."

"She was careless." Ash says contemptuously. "You should have just let her drown."

His dismissal, his utter _disregard_ for life... it's so utterly enraging, I very nearly go for him. My hands clench, itching to send my harpoon straight through his chest.

"Don't you d..." I take a step towards him.

"It's fine." Annie interrupts anxiously. "It's fine. Seela knocked me in by accident and it doesn't matter now anyway, because I'm fine." Her hand creeps up to tug on my trousers, just above my knee and I force myself to look down at her, to see how vulnerable she is at the moment, half frozen and battered, to remember that if I go for Ash, Annie will be forced to fight Seela... "I'm fine." She repeats. "Ethan, really."

I can hear it in her voice – _please, please not now, not yet – _and force myself to breathe. I stand there – rigid as a statue – taking deep calming breaths, trying to think of something other than Ash and his arrogance and Seela and her sharp tongue and even sharper blades.

The ocean. I can think about that. I throw myself into the tide, allowing my anger to ebb from my tensed muscles. But damn, it's difficult.

"Fine." I say eventually and through gritted teeth. "We'll move on." Forcing myself to look away from Ash's gloating smirk, I crouch back down beside Annie, making a conscious effort to unclench my teeth and soften my tone. "Are you okay to walk?"

She nods determinedly, and I look to Reuben to help me get her back on her feet. Ash and Seela stride on, heading eastwards along the edge of the river, and after a little encouragement from Annie, Reuben carries on too.

"You sure you're okay?" I check with her, and she nods firmly.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine."

Despite this though, she wobbles as she takes a step forward, steadying herself with a hand on my arm.

I catch myself because I almost – _almost_ – take her hand.

We move on, following the others, not saying much, although I ask her how she's feeling on regular occasions. She begins to look a little brighter – although I can tell her struggle in the water has left her drained – and she tries to get me to take back my jacket. I refuse of course. Once or twice, I nearly broach the topic of escaping the alliance, because Ash is getting far too impatient with her for my liking. But I almost don't want to, even though I know time is running out.

Because the moment the Career Pack splits up, me and Annie will go our separate ways and then it's every man for himself.

I wonder what it'll be like. Tackling the arena alone. Jumping at the sound of every cannon. Scouring the sky every night for her face. And what about when the inevitable happens? When Annie's cannon does fire and when her face does show in the night sky above the arena? What happens then?

...And what if somehow, against all odds, we both survive and it's down to us to fight it out at the end? Could I send a harpoon through her heart, or wrap my hands around her throat? Could I watch her blood pool to the ground knowing I was the one who spilled it? Could I watch the light fade from her eyes, feel her skin grown cold?

I turn, feeling her gaze on the back of my head, as we trudge along and our eyes lock.

I smile at her, but there's something in her expression – something sad – that makes me wonder whether she's having similar thoughts to me.

But then she returns the smile and it's so genuine, so _real_ that my throat closes.

I turn away, trying to hide that inside, my heart is breaking.

Could I kill Annie Cresta?

No. No, I couldn't. And that's a fact.

* * *

...

* * *

After a little while, I notice Annie beginning to flag and call up for a break. Ash rolls his eyes but assents and we all flop down in the long grass on the river bank.

I seat myself next to Annie, and Reuben plonks himself on my other side.

"Damn." He says with a heavy sigh."I'm tired."

Annie pulls a silly face at him.

"Wuss."

He guffaws, pulling a face at back at her, before lobbing a handful of grass in her direction. Of course it falls pitifully short, and she giggles, her hand lifting to hide her mouth in the way she sometimes does when she laughs. I feel my lips twitch upwards. It's nice to hear her laugh again.

She leans back on her hands, smiling teasingly across me at Reuben.

"That all ya got, woodcutter?" She taunts.

"Watch your mouth, 4." Reuben warns good-naturedly. "Or I might start calling you fish girl."

She snickers again.

"No, that's Ethan." Her eyes slide towards me, her smirk growing wider."His dad's the fisherman."

"What?" Reuben grins at me. "Ethan's a fish girl?"

Annie's answering giggle is infectious and I chuckle too.

"Leave _me_ out of this." I say, holding my hands up in mock defence.

"Your dad's a fisherman?" Seela asks turning her head towards me. She's lying flat on her back opposite me and beside Ash, her legs propped up on a tree. I think she's severing heads from daisies. I'll bet she did that to the other kids' daisy chains back in 2.

"Yes." I answer guardedly, expecting her to make some snarky comment.

"Does that mean you'd be a fisherman too?"

I pretend not to notice her use of the conditional.

"Yes, probably."

"What about you?" Her eyes swivel towards Reuben. "What would you be?"

He shrugs.

"My dad's carpenter, and so are all my brothers. I guess I'll end up the same."

"And you?" Seela's attention shifts to Annie, who eyes her warily back.

"What about me?"

Seela's lips quirk up into a cruel smirk and I sense the conversation take a dangerous turn for the worse.

"If you were going to grow up," She says sweetly. "What would you be?"

I feel Annie's leg – where her knee is touching mine – tense right up.

"That's enough." I snap before she has to reply. "Seela, give it a _rest_."

Seela rolls her eyes, but returns to decapitating daisies. The damage is already done though. The moment of light hearted teasing is over and our minds are all very firmly back on the realisation that only one of us will grow up.

There's a taut silence and beside me, Annie's shoulders droop slightly.

"What does your dad do, Annie?" Reuben suddenly asks brightly in an obvious attempt to lighten the atmosphere. I wince, because Finnick told me what happened to Annie's parents.

Annie's head lifts and her eyes are sad.

"My dad died when I was little." She says huskily. "And my mom. I live with my grandmother."

Now it's Reuben's turn to wince.

"God, sorry... I didn't mean..."

"It's fine." She says. "It was a long time ago, and I love my grandmother very much."

Her simple declaration is somehow the most painful thing anyone has said in this arena. It actually feels like a knife in my gut.

We all sit in a subdued, reflective silence. It's easy to forget here in the arena that the other tributes have people they love, people they want to go home to... even Ash and Seela.

I thread my fingers through the grass, pulling it up a little more viciously than necessary.

I _hate_ this.

"We need to move on." Ash says suddenly, pulling himself to his feet. I glare at him.

"We've only just sat down!" I protest.

"We need to move on." Ash repeats stubbornly, nudging Seela with his foot. I notice he doesn't dare kick her with the same force he laid into Annie earlier. Seela stretches like a cat and begins to slowly gather herself together. Reuben, meanwhile, lets out a groan.

"We've got plenty of time to rest." He grumbles.

"You've had long enough." Ash retorts, slinging his rucksack over his shoulder. Beside me, Annie wipes a weary hand across her face.

"Ash..." She begins quietly.

"Move it!" He barks at her and she nods meekly, standing up and picking up her backpack. I stand too, irritated at his insensitivity, but deciding not to argue.

I help Annie into her backpack.

"S'alright." I say in a low voice into her ear. "We'll get him back."

She shoots me a little smile, but doesn't reply, instead starting slowly after Ash and Seela, who are both already striding off along the riverbank, Ash clomping angrily through the undergrowth.

Reuben glares after him.

"Jerk."

I let out a sigh.

"I couldn't agree more, mate."

* * *

...

* * *

We've been hiking for about twenty minutes when Reuben falls back slightly to walk alongside me. Annie pulls ahead, apparently determined to prove she's well enough to continue without any help from either of us.

Reuben doesn't speak for a while, just treks along beside me, one axe thrown over his shoulder, the other smaller one fixed to his belt. I don't initiate conversation either, although I sneak a glance in his direction more than once, puzzled as to his intentions.

His profile is unreadable.

"You alright, Reuben?" I ask eventually. For a moment, he doesn't reply, doesn't look like he might even bother... but then he just stops still. I stop too, regarding him questioningly. "Uh, Rube?"

He looks me square in the eye.

"I just want you to know," He says. "That when this alliance ends, I'm on your side."

It takes me a second to process his words, and when I do, I realise I'm not feeling as relieved as I should be. He wants to fight, he wants to help me protect Annie, but this conversation… it's making it all too _real_.

I wipe a weary hand across my face.

"You don't have to..." I begin.

"No." He cuts me off. "I won't run. And I won't let Ash or Seela hurt Annie either."

I eye him uncertainly.

"Do you want an alliance afterwards...?" I ask, before realising I sound more than a little reluctant. He grins at me.

"No." He says. "I know you don't want me."

"It's not that…" I protest, feeling bad.

"Yeah." He interrupts, and his smile becomes rueful. "I know."

"I'm sorry." I say and he shakes his head.

"I don't want to have to fight you, Ethan." He says, rubbing his chest, grimacing as if there's a pain there. "And I know you don't want to fight me."

I nod, and we both start walking again.

"I think," I say reflectively after a moment's silence. "That if things were different, we could have been friends."

I see him grin again.

"I'd have been honoured." He says.

We continue trekking on through the forest, noticing that Annie is getting further and further away and we're getting left behind. We speed up a little, keeping a careful distance between us but not wanting to fall too far behind and make her and the 2s suspicious. We discuss possible plans of escape and/or attack and eventually, we settle on a plan that will give us the advantage and keep Annie out of the fray. It's an unspoken agreement between us that she'll be protected.

"Are you..." Reuben says hesitantly. "Are you planning on sticking with Annie... you know, after?"

"No." I reply, trying not to look pained.. "No, we're splitting up. Our mentors told us we should."

Reuben nods.

"Do we tell her about all of this?"

I pause.

"Yes." I say eventually. "I'll tell her. She needs to know."

We reiterate our plan, fine tuning it until we both know exactly where we'll be and exactly what we'll both be doing. I am reasonably confident that we'll succeed. Reuben and I are just as competent fighters as Ash and Seela, and having Annie – I remind myself to arm her with a few knives this afternoon – will give us the upper hand.

"So it's settled." I say grimly once we've been over our plan three times."We move tonight."

Reuben nods tightly and I see his fingers clench around the handle of his axe.

"Tonight."

* * *

...

* * *

I move on ahead of Reuben after that, fairly certain that Ash is the paranoid type. We don't want him suspecting that we're plotting anything and flipping when we're not ready for his attack. I quickly catch up with Annie, who is looking more and more drained by the minute.

"You feeling alright?" I ask concernedly.

"Yeah." She gives me a weary smile. "Just a bit tired."

"Let me know if you need a break." I say, hoping that's all it is.

We move on along the river bank, Seela leading the way. She powers through the forest like a tracker jacker, never once faltering as she hunts down her prey.

I make a mental note to take extra care in hiding my tracks once the alliance is over.

The sun reaches the highest point in the sky and still, there's no sign of any other tributes. I can tell Ash and Seela are getting agitated and a little frustrated, and I'm fairly certain everyone back in the Capitol will be getting fidgety too.

Still, they've all heard me and Reuben make our plans. I'll bet they're hoping for some explosions tonight. Maybe that'll buy us a little time today, if they think it'll all kick off later.

I remind myself that I need to let Annie in on the plan. But we're walking as a closer group now – Ash is barely five or six metres ahead of me – and talking to her privately isn't an option at the moment. Still, I've got all afternoon. I'll find some way to let her know.

A few more hours pass and the sun dips slightly. The ground begins to slope up higher above the water, and the river becomes almost like a little valley, carving a gorge through the forest. Reuben suddenly seems to develop a bladder problem and we have to pause several times while he goes off behind a tree somewhere. I notice every time we stop, Annie looks more and more reluctant to start moving again. She's turned a little pale, actually and her skin is looking a little damp, almost clammy.

I hope she hasn't caught a chill from her dunking in the river.

We've only been walking for about fifteen minutes after our last stop when Reuben suddenly coughs, catching our attention.

"Hey guys," He calls from behind us. "Can we stop a sec?"

We all turn to see him drop his rucksack to the ground, looking a little sheepish. Seela groans loudly.

"What's up _now_?"

Reuben's face splits into a broad, slightly abashed grin.

"Uh well, nature's calling..."

"Ugh." Annie and Seela roll their eyes at exactly the same time. I stifle a smirk, because it's bizarre seeing such similar expressions on the faces of such different girls.

Reuben shrugs.

"Like you don't ever have to pee."

Annie laughs, pointing towards the trees.

"Just go."

He winks at her before loping off, his axe over his shoulder, disappearing into the forest.

"Could do with a rest anyway." I say, because I know Annie does too and she won't dare ask for one. I plop myself down on one of the rocks lining the embankment and glance over the edge - we're quite high up now – before turning back to see Ash sending a sneer in my direction.

Poor fool probably thinks needing to sit down makes you weak.

Annie leaves her backpack on the ground and heaves herself onto the rock beside me. She lets out a long exhausted sigh, swinging her legs wearily.

"You feeling okay?" I ask worriedly, probably for the millionth time today.

"Yeah, yeah." Annie yawns, but tries to hide it behind her hand. "Just tired." Like the last time she told me that, I worry that there's something wrong with her – she did fall in a freezing river after all – but I don't push it. Instead, I dig in my backpack for the small pack of candy I know is in there.

"Here," I say, slipping one into her hand. "Have a sweet."

She smiles her thanks and pops it into her mouth. But her smile abruptly fades as she tastes it. I immediately remember they taste exactly like the mint crystals they sell in the sweet shop back in the harbour and grimace sympathetically. "Yeah, I know... I should have warned you."

"S'fine." She mumbles. I open my mouth to apologise, but then Ash lets out a sudden shout.

"Tribute!" He bellows loudly, snatching his knife from his belt. My head whips round and I see his target on the rocks across the river - a thin quick moving shape with dark blonde hair... And then the tribute's head turns too and I see her face.

Oh _no_.

Elenna's face constricts in panic, but then she's off, scrabbling frantically up the rocks. I know what she's hoping. She's hoping she'll make it to the tree line before Ash manages to get his knife in her. But he's already taken aim, his arm pulled back, his muscles tensed...

I barely have time to think, let alone react, because it's then that Annie launches herself from the rock, flying across the few paces between us and Ash and throwing herself at him, catching his arm just as he hurls his missile. His arm smashes backwards and hits her hard in the face, sending her flying, and she lands heavily on her back a few metres away. At the same time, Ash's knife veers off into the river, missing Elenna by a long way. She reaches the top of the embankment and with one last fearful glance in our direction, disappears into the trees.

And then all is silent as we process what just happened... what Annie just did... what the consequences might be.

My heart starts thudding so hard I can feel it in my throat. This is it. Ash is going to _flip_.

Annie sits up, her features rearranging into an expression of utter panic as Ash turns slowly, _menacingly._ I freeze up, knowing I need to help her, knowing that if I don't Ash is going to kill her, but somehow completely unable to _move._

"I'm sorry." Annie babbles, wiping a hand across her bleeding nose. "I wasn't thinking, Ash... I- I'm sorry."

"Damn straight you're sorry." He replies evenly. His hand slips down and rests on the hilt of sword and I know Annie is in deep _deep_ trouble.

Ash takes another step towards her and suddenly, _suddenly,_ I can move. I push myself off the rock and dart in between them, my hands lifted in an imploring gesture. _Keep the peace_, my little inner voice chants, _keep the damn peace_.

"Hey, hey." I say. "Calm down, Ash."

"I am calm." Ash's jaw is clenched and his eyes flicker towards Annie over my shoulder. "And she is going to die."

"She didn't do anything, Ash." I say in a low voice. I'm trying to keep calm, knowing that if I get too confrontational and aggressive, it'll only fuel Ash on, it'll only rile him further, but it's difficult. Every muscle in my body is pulled taut, strained to a breaking point. I have to protect Annie, I _have_ to. I don't know why, I can't explain it, but I can't let Ash kill her. He'll _hurt_ her.

"She took my kill." Ash replies, and his voice is shaking with anger.

"She didn't." I say. "Elenna is still alive, you can still kill her."

Ash's gaze snaps back to mine, his eyebrows shooting upwards.

"_Elenna_, is it?" He says. "What, were you three in some kind of secret alliance? Have you been plotting against us the whole time?"

_Wrong plotters, Ash._

"Don't be paranoid, Ash." I say irritatedly. "Just because we know her name doesn't mean we're in an alliance with her."

"She saved my life, Ash." Annie's voice pipes up nervously from behind me. "I owed her."

I flinch, because I know that was the wrong thing to say. Ash turns his furious glare on her.

"How sweet." He jeers, and then his whole face distorts in rage, angry colour flooding his face, his voice twisting viciously "You're a fool, Cresta. A _coward_. Refusing to kill anyone, crying like a baby whenever someone dies, lying your way into sponsorships. You're not tough, you're pathetic and weak, Cresta. You're not a Career and you never will be. You don't belong here."

"Then I'll leave." Annie's voice cracks. "I'll leave the alliance."

My heart jumps anxiously.

No, no, _no_! This is all wrong. This can't happen yet. I'm not ready, I had a _plan_. And Reuben's not here... God! Reuben's not here!

"You still don't get it, do you?" Ash growls. "To win, I have to _kill_ you. I'm not going to let you run away because then I'll just have to hunt you down. It's over, Cresta, it ends now."

"You won't touch her." I snarl, unable to hide the anger now.

"You're a fool, Marborough." Ash hisses. "But you're useful. I have no issue with letting you stay." He draws his sword and it glints in the afternoon sunlight. "Now get out of my way so I can kill her."

Annie squeaks in terror behind me, but I don't budge. She's unarmed. She's not strong enough to fight Ash.

And I won't let her die.

I tighten my stance, my harpoon gripped so tightly in my hand I'm sure my knuckles are white.

"No." I say through gritted teeth. Ash lets out an angry growl.

"Well, then I'll have to make you!"

And then he swings his sword towards my head, but I'm quicker than he is and I block the blow with my harpoon, the momentum sending me back a step.

My foot skids in the gravel, but I hold my ground. Ash's eyes narrow to slits, harpoon and sword crossed in between us.

"You really want to do this?" His voice is deadly.

"You go for Annie." I reply, equally as dangerously. "You go for me."

There's a beat, but then we're fighting and I know this will be the fight of my life.

He slashes his sword towards my head and I duck under his arm, sending an elbow into his ribs as I pass him. But he's been training all his life and it barely even fazes him. He whirls round and I expect him to go for my head again... but the sword dips down and although I leap backwards, the blade rips across my hip and down my thigh.

The flesh cleaves like butter and hot blood gushes down my leg. Ash's eyes flash with triumph as my stance wobbles and pain like I've never felt before tears through my thigh, but then I steady myself, the thought that if Ash kills me Annie will most likely be next sending adrenaline rushing through my veins. I intercept Ash's intended fatal blow, our weapons clashing loudly, and throw all my strength into shoving him backwards.

A piercing screech of rage echoes around the gorge and out of the corner of my eye, I see a pair of thrashing figures on the ground. It takes me half a second to register that it's Seela and Annie and they're battling it out like wild animals, rolling over and over, clawing and hissing and screaming. I see Annie send her knee into Seela's stomach, but then, with a cry of fury, Seela's grabs hold of Annie's hair and flips them both over.

"She's gonna kill her." Ash tells me, a spiteful twisted grin making its way across his face. "Annie Cresta is going to _die."_

I answer him with a wordless snarl and he laughs. I glance over at Annie again, knowing I've got to help her, Seela's a flipping _maniac..._ but I don't have time to do anything, because Ash is going for me again. I thwart his attack, but I can feel myself weakening with blood loss.

I stagger.

"Bitch!" I hear Seela shriek and my head snaps to the side to see her on top of Annie, slamming her head repeatedly into the ground. "Stupid district 4 bitch!"

I know I don't have much time and I have to kill or at least incapacitate Ash _now_, or else it's going to be too late for Annie...

Ash's sword comes straight for me again and I divert his strike, arcing my arm and sheering his weapon off to the side, leaving his head vulnerable. And so, knowing time is most definitely running out and every second I spend fighting Ash is another second Seela has to hurt Annie, I summon all my strength and slam the flat shaft of my harpoon into his forehead. I hear the crack as metal meets skull and then he's falling, his eyes rolling back, a grunt of pain slipping from his lips. He hits the ground and he doesn't move.

He's not dead, but right now I've got bigger things to worry about.

I whirl round to see Seela on top of Annie, her back to me, a jagged rock raised high above her head ready to deliver the fatal blow. I barely think, barely even take the time to _aim_, I just send my harpoon flying straight towards Seela's stomach.

_For Mia. For Belle. For Annie._

I hit my target.

The harpoon embeds itself in her torso with a sickening squelch and she freezes, her whole body seizing up. There's a pause – an eternal pause – but then she slumps forwards, her body falling limp and landing flat on top of Annie. With a panicked gasping cry, Annie rolls out from underneath her would-be-killer's body and slumps to the ground beside her.

A cannon fires and I know Seela's dead. I know I've killed her. But I don't have time for sympathy or regret or even satisfaction because I also know Ash isn't dead and that me and Annie have to get out of here. _Now_.

I take a stumbling step towards her, but my injured leg buckles slightly and I sway, so I stay where I am, focusing on catching my balance and keeping it.

"Annie!" I yell. She looks up, looking slightly dazed, like she might be about to throw up. "Annie!" I holler desperately when she doesn't move. "Come on!"

She drags herself to her knees, but then doubles over, her hand clutching her stomach like she might be about to vomit.

"Annie!" I yell again. "We have to go _now_!"

And then she struggles to her feet, stepping over Seela's body and staggering towards me. I can't tell if she's injured or just in shock. My own injury is sending waves of pain through my body and I start to feel a little faint.

"Annie, now!" I can feel the panic rising, because I don't know if I'm going to be able to run, if I'm going to be able to get myself and Annie out of here.

Annie's gaze lifts to mine and then her whole face drops.

"Ethan!" She screams, her voice high pitched with horror, her hand lifting to point at something – _someone_ – behind me.

I turn, but all I see is a pair of raging blue eyes and a glint of silver and then the sword slashes into my throat and then it's just wetness and blood and pain and pure undiluted _terror_.

And then everything sort of seizes up and my vision blurs and I'm falling, I can feel it. The whole world bleeds white and I know I'm dying.

I know I'm going to die and there's nothing I can do.

Oh god. Mom. Dad. _Ella_. Finnick. Mags...

Annie.

A scream, loud and long and piercing, slices through my consciousness and I recognise it immediately.

_Annie_.

Oh Annie.

_Win_, I think. _You have to win_. But I know she won't, I know Ash will kill her. Hatred and anger and pain and terror and sadness, deep deep sadness, cripples me and I suddenly can't breathe.

I fight it, fighting for air, but there's something hot and thick in my throat and I can't breathe, _I can't breathe_. I hear a horrific, unearthly gurgle and then I realise it's me and I'm _dying_.

I see the blue of the ocean, the sparkle of the sun, the brightness of Ella's smile. I taste salt and then rust and I don't know if it's a memory or whether I'm drowning in blood. Maybe both.

It hurts. It hurts more than I can explain.

And then I see her, I see Annie, but it's not real, I know it's not, because she's laughing and she's so beautiful and I'm glad this is my last memory because she's my friend and I love her.

I love her?

But then something heavy presses down on the back of my eyes and I can feel myself fading.

I fight it, but I know it's too late. The darkness catches me like a current and then I'm being sucked down, down, down and I can't do anything about it.

I know this is it. My last few seconds.

Annie.

Annie Cresta.

Don't forget me.

* * *

...

* * *

**So... did Ethan love Annie? Romantically? Platonically? What do you think? I think he might have, just a little. Like maybe she loved him... just a little. Not much of Finnick here was there? Sorry, you'll just have to go back to the last chapter and get your fill there!**

**I really hope you've enjoyed this though. I did, although it was quite sad to write. Leave a review and let me know what you thought! **

_**SEQUEL INFORMATION:**_

**_I am planning on finishing Suffering on the Sidelines by spring next year (fingers crossed!) and then I'll be able to start the sequel. The sequel will be called something like 'Taken by the Tide', and it'll be alternating points of view - both Annie and Finnick. It'll also be NOT following canon. That's it, guys, NOT CANON! But well, you'll have to wait and see how it all pans out._ **

**So, thanks again for reading, please review and I hope you'll stick around for the rest of Suffering on the Sidelines and eventually the sequel! x**


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